


The California Annual Police Awards Gala

by Vanya_Instance



Series: Something Interesting [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: But i suppose it can be read alone, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Formalwear, Genderbending, Gowns, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Just a little fun, Party, Sequel, Sequel to Baby Steps, Shawn has always been a girl, Tuxedos, gala - Freeform, not a case!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Instance/pseuds/Vanya_Instance
Summary: Shawn thought that she hated shopping.Until it turned out she didn’t.Shawn thought that she hated wearing dresses.Until it turned out she didn’t.Shawn thought she hated attending Galas.Until it turned out she didn’t. Lassiter thought he hated Shawn.Well, you get the idea. But then why the hell is he ignoring her?





	1. Chapter 1

**May 1993**

It was the night of Junior Prom. Shawn and Gus were going to rock the house. Or, more accurately, rock the school gymnasium.

Gus, in a blue frilled shirt and a blue suit, was looking pretty damn cool. Shawn fully intended to match him in her equally as awesome suit.

She would of course wear the suit better.

Gus agreed to disagree.

Henry just disagreed.

‘You’re going to prom, Shawn,’ her father had insisted. ‘And you’re going to wear a dress. That’s that. Your mother would kill me if I let you go in anything else.’

‘But Dad,’ Shawn had groaned. ‘Gus gets to look like Tommy Ross in his blue suit. If I wear a stupid dress I’m going to look like Carrie.’

‘I am nothing like William Katt, Shawn,’ said Gus, offended. ‘If anything I’m John Travolta.’

Shawn had snorted. Not likely.

‘Have you guys been watching scary movies again?’ Henry asked sternly.

Shawn laughed full of the confidence of youth.

‘I’m sixteen now, Dad.’

Henry looked horrified at the thought. Kids grew up so fast.

‘I know,’ he said mournfully.

Henry Spencer lamented youthful rebellion. In a blink of an eye Gus and Shawn had turned into typical teenagers with incomprehensible lingo and the need to go against everything Henry said.

Henry hoped fervently that it was just a phase.

If the worst thing Shawn did whilst not under the radar of adult supervision was watching some rated R horror movies Henry would be okay.  But this was Shawn and Henry  didn’t need to be hyper observant to strongly suspect that was not the case.

Shawn smiled innocently as if reading her father’s mind.

It failed to instil Henry’s confidence. He shook his head sadly.

But all protests aside Shawn had been forced out of her usual jeans and sneakers combo and into an atrocity of a pink and cream dress, complete with itchy taffeta, shoulder pads and powder-blue accessories so she matched Gus’ suit. She wore heels. She wore pink lipstick. She had a bona-fide hairstyle which made her feel 8% Shawn and 92% hair product. She looked like a Brunette-Backcombed Barbie.

Gus laughed about it for weeks.

Henry had taken photo after photo, worse than a doting mother. Those weren’t tears in his eyes, he had insisted. It was allergies.

Perhaps he had just been allergic to seeing his baby girl all grown up. Shawn hadn’t passed comment. She was too busy struggling to walk in her heels and to breathe in her dress-cum-meringue.

Gus’ mother and father, who had come to Shawn’s house to take see the pair off and take some photos of their own, had doted and cooed. No matter how much of a bad influence Shawn was on their precious Gus, they were relieved that Gus needn’t be going to prom alone. That had always been a distinct possibility for the youngest Gustor.

Leaving the Spencer residence, having borrowed Gus’ father’s car for the evening, Shawn and Gus made their way to prom, eager to escape the embarrassment of loving parents.

At first things failed to get much better when Shawn and Gus had finally gotten to prom. Shawn still found the dress too formal, too tight for comfortable movement. In fact the only thing that had stopped her from ‘accidentally’ spilling the entirety of the over-enthusiastically spiked punchbowl over her atrocity of a prom dress, and then using it as an excuse to leave, was the surprising fact that many of her male classmates seemed to find Shawn dressed as a cake topper very attractive.

Apparently Shawn scrubbed up well.

Shawn found the attention fun to say the least. Or at least it certainly brightened up the evening. But she didn’t let the attention go to her head. Her father had taught her better than that.

‘If you’re not worth their attention when you’re not dressed up then they’re not worth your attention when you are dressed up, Shawn,’ he father had warned her sternly. ‘You’re a beautiful young woman who’s dressed up beautifully. But looks have nothing to do with it Shawn. You don’t need clothes to impress anybody. Let your intelligence and your perceptiveness do that for you.’

Shawn was sceptical how much of that her father actually believed. If all that really had been true then he would have let her wear a suit to prom. But on the other hand her father did have the largest collection of hideous shirts she had ever seen. His clothes certainly didn’t impress anybody.

It seemed the jury was out.

So Shawn didn’t take the boy’s admirations to heart. She let them flirt shamelessly with her and let their comments wash over her, feeding her ego, but she didn’t pay them much heed. Instead Shawn focussed her attention on the one boy she knew deserved her attention.

Gus.

And boy was Shawn determined to make prom great for Gus.

She had seen the way Gus looked at the girl across the room. Shawn didn’t know her name, but she knew that the girl was the head of the school’s Book Club. Quiet and mousy, Book Club Girl was a wallflower in a plain cream dress that evening at prom. Shawn knew the type, socially inept and geeky. She would have a low self-esteem and a high IQ.

Gus had been crushing on Book Club Girl for a while now and Shawn decided that tonight would be a perfect opportunity for the two of them to actually speak. Yearning glances were only acceptable for so long. But Gus was rather fond of poetically longing for a girl for months on end. He thought it was romantic. But Shawn was never the patient sort.  She had seen Book Club Girl sneaking brief glances at Gus when he wasn’t looking and her little smiles when she caught him looking at her.

Working her magic, Shawn was confident that the two love-birds, or should she say love-nerds, might be able to conduct a little science experiment on what happens when two people with braces kiss.

Even at sixteen Shawn was a spectacular wing-woman. Gus left his house that evening only to come home a man.

Or at least, a man who had reached second base.

Shawn left Gus and Book Club Girl alone so they could have some privacy and returned to the punchbowl where she flirted idly with some of her fellow students. There, she did a little experimenting of her own.

_Hello Boys._

Perhaps it was the combination of pink taffeta and shoulder pads the rough height and diameter of Mount Everest that the guys found attractive. Maybe it was the itchy corsage placed on her wrist attracting the guys like bees to pollen. It certainly couldn’t have been the way Shawn practically hobbled from place to place uncomfortably in her high-heeled shoes. Shoes which, by the end of the night, had been cast off so that Shawn could dance freely and not be in constant danger of falling on her ass or cause her to make more of a fool of herself than she already did on a regular basis.

Overall the evening was enjoyable. The meal had been enjoyable and the music hadn’t been terrible. Gus had gotten his first kiss. Maybe he had even touched his first boob. Shawn hadn’t gotten expelled, drunk or pregnant. That was all that Henry could possibly have asked of her.

But when Shawn got home and took off her dress and her heels she was the happiest she had been all evening.

She could walk.

She could breathe.

She could say with upmost sincerity that Shawn Spencer was never going to wear a dress again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Present Day**

Shawn Spencer, true to her word, had never worn a dress again.

Surrounded by men such as Henry and Gus, Shawn had never felt the need to wear anything other than jeans and sneakers. Checked shirts were personal preference.

But that was before she received the invitation.

If this were a movie, the moment that the invitation had been placed in Shawn’s hands the background would have faded to blackness, as the camera zoomed slowly towards Shawn’s face. The music would have climbed slowly to a minor crescendo, filled with clashes and dissonance. The seemingly innocuous invitation, small and unassuming in her hands did not reveal the future horror it would bring.

_The invitation._

Cue the orchestral brass section.

_Dun Dun Dun!_

It was a thick envelope, evidently of high quality. The script was fine and handwritten. It bore the official seal and embossed logo of the Santa Barbara Police Department. And it invited Shawn to the California Annual Police Awards Gala.

It was a prestigious and highly _formal_ event.

But there was no intense music or artistic use of lighting when Shawn was given the invitation. Rather than the dramatic movie moment Shawn felt would have better suited the deliverance of the invitation, she had actually been given the invitation by Buzz that afternoon as she had casually sauntered into the SBPD.

She and Gus had a meeting with the chief.

Shawn had opened the invitation and read it curiously. Once she had read it, Shawn had flashed the invite to Lassiter as he walked by.

‘I thought you told me policemen didn’t have balls, Lassie,’ Shawn said waving the invite.

Lassiter growled in response and walked on.

‘Well someone’s not a happy little camper,’ Shawn said in a singsong tone. She raised her voice a little louder so that Lassiter could hear her even as he walked away, scowling.

Buzz smiled sympathetically.

Still waiting for Gus to show up, Shawn decided to visit Juliet’s desk to find out a little more about the California Annual Police Awards Gala. She had heard of it before, her father was a highly decorated officer after all. Henry had trophies and certificates and plaques galore celebrating his achievements.  Shawn was sure that a couple of them had come from some sort of Gala. Perhaps even this Gala.

Shawn wondered idly why she had never been invited before. Who wouldn’t want Shawn at their event? She was a delight.

‘Hey Jules,’ Shawn said, as she approached the detective’s desk. Shawn’s keen eyes noticed a piece of fancy embossed card on the organised, but heavily file burdened desk. ‘I see you’ve been invited to this shindig too. That’s a fun word. Shindig. _Shindig_.’

Shawn repeated the word, savouring how it felt in her mouth.

‘Hi Shawn,’ Juliet said, looking up from her computer. ‘Shindig? What are you talking about?’

Shawn held up her invite.

‘Oh, I see. The California Annual Police Awards Gala. Yeah, I got an invite.’

‘What is it exactly? How come I’ve never been invited before?’

‘It’s almost exclusively for cops. It’s an awards ceremony for police officers who have solved hard cases, sensitive cases, high profile cases, dangerous cases, you know. It’s great for publicity.’

‘Then why am I invited?’

‘It’s not really about you. It’s about Detective Lassiter.’

Shawn looked confused.

Juliet cleared her throat awkwardly. This wasn’t a conversation she was particularly comfortable having it seemed.

‘Chief Vick was pleased with how Lassiter had cleared up your case so quickly, even when he was without an Assistant Detective. It took a lot of hard work. He showed skill, determination and dedication and so she nominated him up for an award, and he won.’

‘So I’m just there to show my gratitude.’

Juliet nodded. She was a little unsure how Shawn was going to take having to step back from the spotlight.

‘That’s cool,’ Shawn said easily. She seemed to take the news well.

‘I hope there’s an open bar,’ Shawn joked.

Juliet laughed, ‘At a party for cops? Of course there’s an open bar!’

Shawn would have talked to Juliet longer, but before she could pull up a seat and prepare to catch up Chief Vick stepped out of her office.

‘O’Hara, my office please,’ Chief Vick said. Her tone supplied the word _now._ She didn’t need to say it out loud.

Juliet smiled apologetically at Shawn before rushing into the Chief’s office.

Shawn took Juliet’s now empty chair and sat down. She took a moment to spin around lazily in the office chair before slowing to a stop. Shawn sighed and looked at the invite she held in her hand.

An awards ceremony where Lassiter would be commended for his hard work and dedication would be great. But having to spend time with Lassiter?

That would be awkward.

Yes, awkward.

Awkward was a very apt description of the situation between Shawn and Lassiter right now.

Lassiter had heroically came in and saved the day, captured the bad guy and saved the little kitten and old lady stuck up a tree, with only the most minimal of assistance from Shawn. There was no denying that. And Shawn was grateful for it. There was no denying that either.

But there was also no denying the fact that after the case was over, they had kissed. And it had been fun and it had been impulsive. And Shawn had enjoyed it thoroughly. She had been crushing on Lassiter for some time.

But now it wasn’t fun and it wasn’t hot.

It certainly wasn’t enjoyable.

It was just awkward.

Lassiter had avoided her like the plague for almost a month, which was an impressive feat in such a small police department. And it was especially impressive when they were on the same case.

And for once, Shawn didn’t really know why.

Shawn was confused, and her feelings, she’d admit, were a little hurt. She didn’t know what she had done, but apparently it was enough for Lassiter to have placed a Shawn-repellent force-field around himself. One he was very good at maintaining. Even with Shawn’s gentle efforts to talk to him, Lassiter remained distant.

Eager to take her mind off its gloomy path, Shawn read the invite again. The Gala was less than a week away. It seemed since Santa Barbara were hosting this year they had been a little slack giving their department their invites. Or maybe it was something to do with the fact Shawn hadn’t been given many cases lately and so hadn’t been in the station as much as usual.

Shawn pulled her brain from its seemingly determined path down Gloomy Avenue and continued reading the fine embossed card that presented the invitation to the Gala.

The card offered a plus one.

Gus would have nothing better to be doing anyway.

At bottom of the invite, written in its beautiful hand-written script was something Shawn had overlooked in her initial reading of the invitation. Almost at the very bottom of the card were those three little words a woman like Shawn never wanted see or hear.

_Black Tie Required._

_Dun Dun Dun!_

No orchestra required that time.

Well, that was just great.

Shawn groaned and shoved her invite in her pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. Her day was just getting worse and worse. She threw her legs up onto Juliet’s desk and closed her eyes.

‘Hey Shawn, what’s up?’ asked a voice.

Shawn didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was.

‘Hey Gus,’ she replied.  ‘You doing anything Saturday night?’

‘Uh, no. Why?’

He sounded suspicious.

‘You are now. We’re going to the California Police Annual Awards Gala. You’re my plus one.’

‘Is there free food?’

‘And an open bar too.’

Shawn took the envelope out of her pocket and waved it tantalisingly.

‘Lemme see that Shawn,’ Gus said sternly.

Shawn held out the invite. She felt it being lifted from her fingers.

‘Fine then,’ Gus said, after he had read the invite. ‘I will go. Not because you told me to but because of the free food. You know I love free food Shawn.’

‘Great,’ Shawn replied.

That had gone far better than expected.  She had expected a little complaint from Gus, but the less trouble the better. She wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. After all, now she wouldn’t be going to the Gala alone. And at least she could annoy Gus all night. She smiled.

Things were beginning to look up.

‘What are you going to wear?’ Gus asked.

Shawn groaned and finally opened her eyes.

‘I don’t know man,’ she replied. ‘I might go buy something today. Do you want to come?’

‘Oh hell no, Shawn’ Gus said. ‘I know what that’s like. I have an older sister. I know how that goes down. You say you’re just going to one shop, next thing you know it’s fourteen hours later and it’s you still haven’t pick anything. I’m not helping you, go find someone else stupid enough to do that.’

Shawn looked sadly at Gus with wide eyes.

‘No way Shawn,’ Gus said firmly.

‘Come on man,’ Shawn tried.

‘No. I’m leaving,’ Gus said.  ‘Call me if there is a case.’

Gus, true to his word, left the bull pen without looking back at Shawn once. He didn’t even wait to attend the meeting with Chief Vick.

Gus had some seriously unresolved issues when it came to shopping.

How hard could it really be?

With nothing to do until Chief Vick was once again free, Shawn took the liberty of borrowing Juliet’s office phone. She punched in her dad’s number and waited for him to pick up.

Henry would know what Shawn had to wear and how formal the event truly was. Hell, he had probably attended a few of the Galas himself over the years.

Despite whatever her father would say Shawn knew she could probably get away with sneakers.

‘It says black tie, Shawn. Are you stupid?’ Henry had said. ‘You know what black tie means. You need to wear a full length dress. This isn’t the sort of event you could wear sneakers to.’

_Dammit._

‘No offense, but why did you even get an invite? This isn’t the sort of thing a Psychic Private Detective would be invited to.’

Um, offence taken dad,’ Shawn said deadpan. ‘But it’s not for my, albeit amazing, achievements. It’s for Lassie. He got a commendation from the Chief for working my case and he’s getting an award.’

‘Oh, that makes sense. Victims and their families are often invited to the Gala. It’s a chance to show their thanks, you know.’

‘I was just thinki-,’ Shawn began, eager to plead her case for sneakers and get off the topic of being a victim. She was interrupted by the noise of someone clearing their throat.

Juliet was back.

‘I gotta go Dad. I’ll call you later,’ she said quickly and hung up the phone.

‘Juliet! Sweet Juliet. Jules. You’re just the person I want to see right now,’ Shawn said with a smile.

Juliet gave Shawn a look.

Shawn took her feet off Juliet’s table and stood up from her spinning office chair. Shawn smiled even more brightly.

Juliet wasn’t buying it.

‘What are you planning on wearing to the Gala?’ Shawn said innocently.

Well, that was not what Juliet had expected Shawn to say.

But it seemed Shawn could not have picked a better topic.

‘Oh. My. God. I am so glad you asked Shawn,’ Juliet gushed. ‘Because I have been just _torn_ between this empire line gown and this sweetheart neckline gown for days now, I was going to order them both online to try them out.  After all I could always send one back, you know? But I went onto the site at lunch today and they had _both_ sold out! It was such bad luck. And the website only has dropped-waist gowns or backless gowns left and they’re not what I’m looking for at all. So now I’ve absolutely no clue what to wear. I’ve no dress, no shoes, and no accessories. And there’s less than a week to go!’

Shawn looked at Juliet blankly. Only a few of the words Shawn had actually understood. She knew very little about dressing up. She could do her hair and she could attempt a little make-up but this was unchartered territory. She knew when she was out of her depth.

Shawn knew when she needed to ask for help.

‘Could you help me pick out a dress Jules?’ Shawn asked.

It seemed Christmas, Thanksgiving and her birthday had come all at once for Juliet. It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for Shawn to ask just that very question.

Juliet’s eyes lit up and Shawn was a little scared.

She had awakened a fashion monster.


	3. Chapter 3

The Gala was to be held on Saturday night.

It was currently Wednesday morning and Shawn was beginning to suspect that preparing for the Gala required a lot more effort than she had previously anticipated.

Shawn had planned on taking twenty minutes out of her day buying and dress and then going home. On the day of the Gala she would roll out of bed that morning, take a shower that evening, throw on the dress and pray that no one noticed she was wearing sneakers.

Juliet had other ideas.

In the last hour alone Juliet had enthusiastically booked hair appointments, make-up appointments and waxing appointments. Manicures and Pedicures were on the menu too. It seemed that on Saturday morning Shawn would be transforming from a psychic detective into a Barbie doll.

Juliet had even offered to book Shawn in for a tanning session, but Shawn declined. She preferred to get her tan from the sun and not from a bottle. Juliet shrugged and booked the appointment for herself.  She booked Shawn in for a massage.

But apparently all of that wasn’t enough to quench the beast.

‘We need to go dress shopping,’ Juliet said decisively as she neatened a number of files on her desk.

‘Now?’ asked Shawn.

‘Yes!’ said Juliet enthusiastically. ‘I’ve wanted to go dress shopping for weeks but I’ve been so busy with all of these cases I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’ve booked a half day today though. I can leave right now. Why don’t we go check some dress stores? Dress shopping is always more fun with friends.’

Shawn doubted that.

But she did need a dress.

‘Fine,’ Shawn reluctantly agreed. ‘Lemme just check in with the Chief a minute, see if she’s got any cases for a charming psychic detective and her handsome, yet somewhat simple assistant.’

Unfortunately Shawn’s brief visit with Chief Vick offered up no cases for Shawn and Gus. Shawn even begged a little, but the Chief was firm. Despite the fact that Juliet and Lassiter were up to their eyes in cases, there was nothing that required the services of a psychic.

Once again.

Shawn was beginning to suspect that something was up. There had to be a reason that she and Gus were little to no cases. But with nothing concrete to go on, and no real motivation to find out just yet, Shawn gave Gus a call.

‘No cases today buddy,’ Shawn said as she made her way through the bull pen. ‘It seems we’re the heroes Santa Barbara deserves, but not the ones it needs right now.’

‘What, again Shawn?’ Gus asked a little incredulously. ‘Inaccurate quote aside, you must have done something bad to seriously piss off the Chief. Are you sure it wasn’t you broke her glass fish ornament?’

‘It wasn’t me, I swear. My bet is on Holtz in Forensics. For someone trained in surgery he has hands like pitcher’s gloves. Anyway, cases aside, Juliet and I are going dress shopping this afternoon. You’re more than welcome to come too. It’s never too late to change your mind,’ Shawn said tantalisingly.

‘No damn way Shawn,’ replied Gus. ‘I’m all set. I don’t need a store when I’ve got my closet. I have that suit at home from my cousins wedding. Jacket, pants, shirt, shoes and tie. The whole nine yards.’

Gus sounded smug.

‘Well that is just not fair at all. Men should have to go through the same torture women go through.’

Gus snorted over the line.

Shawn could have sworn that she heard someone snort in the station too. But a quick and surreptitious glance around revealed the only person in hearing distance was Lassiter. His back was to Shawn as he stood beside the copier, his hand full of paper, only a few metres away.

Perhaps Lassiter’s patent-pending _Shawn Shield_ wasn’t entirely impervious.

Momentarily distracted, Shawn had missed what Gus had just said.

‘Huh?’ Shawn said eloquently.

‘I said, Shawn, that maybe if _someone_ hadn’t decided to challenge my uncle to a drinking contest at said wedding, they would still have a nice suit of their own. Maybe that _certain someone_ wouldn’t have had to throw out their entire suit, including shoes just to get rid of the smell of vomit, tequila and regret in their apartment. ’

‘Please Gus?’ Shawn said, not above a little pleading to get her way. ‘It’ll be fun! You’ll get to spend a lot of time watching beautiful woman trying on dresses.’

‘Are you counting yourself as a beautiful woman?’ Gus asked, his tone somewhat disbelieving.

‘I most certainly am counting myself as a beautiful woman, Gus,’ Shawn replied with mock offence. ‘According to my father, my elderly neighbours and Schmitt from Narcotics I’m beautiful woman. And Schmitt should know. He’s been married eight times.’

She definitely heard a snort from Lassiter at that last statement. It was a small victory, but Shawn was proud of it.

_Shawn 2- 0 Lassiter._

But the second momentary lapse in Shawn’s concentration had allowed Gus to make his escape. He had hung up the phone to avoid anymore of Shawn’s pleading. Shawn pulled a face and shoved her cell phone into her back pocket.

And so, left with no other choice, Shawn reluctantly allowed Juliet to finish her work for the day, pick up her handbag and, with an excited grin, drag Shawn to what felt like every dress store in the city.

Walking into the first store Shawn found didn’t know what she was looking for in a dress. Her needs and wants were simple, just a cheap dress that didn’t look like she was wearing a sack would suffice.

Juliet invariably had other plans. She was naming styles and cuts of dressed that Shawn had never heard of. Some of them Shawn felt couldn’t be real. What the heck was a basque? What was a peplum? They sounded more like the names of foreign dog breeds than types of dresses.

All too quickly Shawn was beginning to feel like she was stuck back in a nightmare she had in high school. The one where she had a class test but when she looked at the sheet everything was in hieroglyphics.  She didn’t know what these words meant.

Looking bleakly at Juliet seemed to aid the situation. In Shawn’s eyes Juliet sensed Shawn’s utter confusion. She began to translate her enthusiastic babbling to accommodate the more fashion oblivious.

Juliet tried on a number of different dress styles to show Shawn what to look out for as well. Shawn found the visual examples of great benefit.  Things were becoming clearer.

Shawn threw herself, albeit reluctantly, into the quest to find a dress. She began rooting through dresses on the clearance rail trying to use what she had just learnt to find something suitable. With a healthy handful of dresses and an approving look from Juliet, Shawn went into the changing area to try the dresses on.

It had been an unsuccessful endeavour.

Shawn didn’t know where she had gone wrong. She had copied Juliet’s dress choices with a keen eye, but something just was not working. Shawn felt like a man in every dress she picked. The only problem she could think of was that standing easily around 5” 10, Shawn was a hell of a lot taller than Juliet. But she had compensated for the height by picking longer dresses.

Shawn was beat.

‘I don’t understand,’ Shawn finally reluctantly admitted to Juliet.  ‘I’m choosing dresses that looked so nice on you, I put them on and boom, someone’s dressed my dad in a ball-gown. Where am I going wrong?’

‘Oh, I see,’ Juliet’s eyes filled with comprehension. ‘Dresses that look nice on me may not suit your body shape.’

Shawn nodded, eager for Juliet to continue. Anything to find a dress quickly.

‘You’re taller, you’ve got long legs and more curves. But your boobs are bigger and your hips are wider too,’ Juliet gestured somewhat embarrassedly.  ‘I was looking at strapless gowns which suited me. They’ll only make your boobs look like they’re trying to escape.’ 

Shawn looked down. That was… an apt description of the situation going on in the chest area.

Juliet picked a dress off the rack. It was a dress with long puffed lace sleeves which cinched at the waist and then fell loosely to the floor.

‘Here,’ Juliet said. ‘Try this on, tell me what you think.’

Shawn tried the dress on. She thought it made her look like she had been living in the land that time forgot. It was Eighties vogue but not in a good way. The sleeves were puffy, and in no way flattering. But Shawn realised that the dress cinching at the waist, rather than the bust was a far better look for her.

Before she realised it, Shawn had almost made a game out of trying to find the perfect dress. It was akin to something she and her father would have played when she was a child. And much to horror, Shawn realised with a start, she was enjoying herself immensely.

After half a dozen more stores and what felt like thousands, if not millions of dresses later, Shawn found the dress she wanted.  It was a simple dress, in an off white shade. Shawn though it looked a little like the colour of condensed milk. An expert in fashion like Juliet would have called it something better, like antique lace or cream beige. Whatever descriptor for colour was used, the dress complimented her naturally tanned skin perfectly. It had cap sleeves and plunged a little at the neckline, deep enough for Shawn to feel sexy but tasteful enough that everything was covered and left to the imagination. She would after all be wearing it to a classy event.

The dress cinched at the waist and fell gently to the ground. It was very pretty. It made Shawn feel a little like a princess when she wore it. It even bloomed beautifully when she spun around in a circle.

Shawn, she’d admit it, looked hot.

Juliet whistled when Shawn walked out of the changing room. Shawn smiled a little self-consciously. Pleased at the compliment from her friend. She had forgotten for a moment that she wasn’t the only one who was going to see this dress. It was a far cry from her comfort zone of jeans and checked shirts.

Juliet circled her index finger in the universal symbol for _turn around_ and Shawn obliged.  Juliet fixed the back of Shawn’s dress, pulling up the zip to the top, something Shawn had been unable to do on her own. Juliet seemed even more impressed with the dress put on properly. 

‘You look great!’ Juliet exclaimed. ‘It suits you perfectly. You should definitely buy it.’

‘You think?’ Shawn asked.

‘You’d be seriously mad not to,’ Juliet insisted.

Well Shawn wasn’t going to argue with that.

Shawn looked at the dresses price tag. The dress hadn’t been on the clearance rail like Shawn had previously intended, but it wasn’t too far out of her budget range. With a little of her skills she knew she could get the price down a little.

But she needed to get Juliet out of the way for a moment.

‘Hey, I’m going to check myself out in the big mirror in the middle of the store, the changing room mirror didn’t have enough light.’ Shawn said, lying easily. ‘You can use the room whilst I’m out there.’

Juliet shrugged and picked up the dresses she had wanted to try on. The store they were currently in was small and so there was only one changing room. Juliet had patiently waited for Shawn to get changed but she was eager to try on her own potential dresses.

With Juliet safely out of the way, distracted by the allure of trying on pretty dresses, Shawn decided to get down to business. She walked around the small shop checking her dress on the large mirror that went from floor to ceiling at the back wall.  When Shawn saw the one man who worked in the store walk over to her, she knew it was time to put her plan into action.

Fresh out of business school or wherever, this young store owner had a wandering eye. The moment Shawn had walked into his store she had noticed him offer a discount off a pair of shoes a pretty lady was trying on. And he hadn’t been looking at the shoes when he said it.

Shawn didn’t approach the man, nor did she show that she had noticed him in the mirror, instead she smoothed down her dress and looked at it contemplatively. The man approached her.

‘Miss, you look ravishing in that dress,’ he said, his voice attempting to be low and velvety. It lacked a certain grounding however, and if Shawn hadn’t been trying to get a discount she certainly would have mocked it, along with his use of the word ravishing.

Who under the age of seventy found _ravishing_ an acceptable word these days?

Maybe Gus?

Probably Gus.

Instead of mocking the shop owner however, Shawn turned around slowly and smiled gently.

‘Really?’ she asked, eyes gazing at the man who was roughly the same height as her.  ‘Are you sure?’

The man nodded with what he had obviously intended to be a winning smile.

‘I was worried that the neckline was a little too low. Perhaps a little revealing,’ Shawn said.

It was practically an invitation for the man’s eyes to wander. And wander they did.

It was just a little harmless flirting.

‘I think it’s perfectly fine,’ said the shop owner with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow.

Shawn touched his arm gently and laughed softly, a technique she had learnt from one of the crappy rom-coms that had been on TV a few nights ago. The kind of movie that Gus denied recording on the Psych office’s DVR.  Shawn had lost the remote control and had been too lazy to change the channel and as a result Shawn ended up watching two hours of a romantic comedy. It had been the classic tale of boy meets girl. It had kisses in the rain, a dramatic declaration of love at an airport and a golden retriever puppy thrown in too. Shawn would rather crawl through glass than ever watch it again. But it had taught her a thing or two.

Apparently the hand on the arm had worked, and just in time too. Juliet had emerged from the changing room in her normal clothes, apparently not seeing anything she liked.

Shawn went back into the changing room and changed quickly, before going to the counter to pay. The owner gave her a 20% discount and his number written on the back of the receipt. Shawn gave him the money and a wink on her way out of the shop. It was a fair deal in Shawn’s eyes.

‘You’re good at this,’ Juliet said casually as the pair exited the shop.

‘What?’ Shawn said taken aback. Had Juliet caught her flirting for discounts?

‘Shopping for dresses,’ Juliet said.

_Oh_ , thought Shawn.

‘I mean sometimes I wish I had more girlfriends to do this with, or more time to shop with you Shawn. Today was fun!’

Surprisingly Shawn found she wasn’t overly opposed to the idea.

‘I feel the same. I think you’re brainwashing me,’ Shawn groused.

Juliet laughed and dragged Shawn to the next store.

Two stores later and Juliet found her perfect dress. It was a pastel pink strapless gown with gold and crystal diamante on the waist, and a slit up the side.

‘Rather daring, Detective O’Hara,’ Shawn joked.  

Juliet smirked knowingly. Oh, it seemed the detective had someone to impress.

Shawn had no idea who it could be. Perhaps one of the other detectives, or a detective she knew from O’Hara’s old station that was coming to the awards ceremony. Whoever it was, they were in for one hell of a treat.

Or maybe it wasn’t for anyone, maybe Juliet was just dressing up for herself. But in a dress like that Shawn wouldn’t be the only one impressed by Juliet.

Shawn checked the time on her phone.

‘This was fun,’ Shawn said. ‘But I gotta get home now.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Juliet asked.’ We still need shoes and bags and jewellery.’

 Shawn frowned.

‘Today?’ she asked.

Shawn had a half-eaten ham and pineapple pizza at home calling her name.

Juliet sighed.

‘I suppose we could finish our shopping tomorrow,’ she acquiesced.

‘Great! I can’t wait,’ said Shawn with genuine enthusiasm. Although whether the enthusiasm was for shopping or pizza, was unclear.

Blissfully ignorant, Juliet smiled.

‘Come on Shawn, I’ll give you a ride home,’ Juliet said.

‘Beauty and kindness, you’ve got it all Jules,’ Shawn replied with a smile.

The two shopping buddies made their way back to the car, their wardrobes fuller and their purses lighter.


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn spent the majority of her morning at the beach. Unlike her father she didn’t get her tan from a bottle and it was a key tanning month. But as the day gradually passed from morning to afternoon Shawn deemed her tanning session over. She left the beach, took a quick detour to a café to pick up some coffee and made her way to the Santa Barbara Police Station. She was to meet with the Chief and then go shopping with Juliet. Again.

Leaving the café, coffee in hand, Shawn looked up at the glorious afternoon sun and wished that it could brighten up her mood as much as it brightened up the whole of Santa Barbara. With the Santa Barbara Police Department on her mind Shawn found her mood had begun to sour.

She and Gus hadn’t been given any interesting cases in weeks. And any cases that they did get were received though Shawn basically begging. It was like pulling teeth to get Chief Vick to acquiesce every measly case.   

What was even worse was, when Shawn and Gus finally received their meagre handful of cases, they were all super boring. Shawn had solved every one of them with only the most casual of glances through the files. They didn’t even need to leave the station. Shawn’s feelings about this had gone from confusion to boredom to frustration with every passing week.

Shawn’s mood had soured because she knew that this visit to the station would be like all the others. She would enter the building, eager to be given a juicy case and she would leave empty handed and disappointed. If Chief Vick wasn’t such a hard-ass Shawn would suspect that Vick and the department were trying to keep her off big cases for a while.

Scratch that.

Chief Vick and the department was trying to keep her off big cases.

But it had been over two months since her attack.

Shawn was okay now, really.

_Really_.

Not that anyone besides Gus and her father believed her.

So what Shawn if had refused to see a psychiatrist? She had just wanted to get back to work, where everyone would treat her normally and things could return to usual. But with Lassiter avoiding her like she’d gotten the plague, Chief Vick treating her like she was going to have a Britney circa 2007 breakdown at any moment and Juliet calling her nearly every evening to just ‘casually chat’ and check everything was alright, it was a little hard for things to go back to normal.

Shawn would be lying if she didn’t admit it was starting to get to her. At the very least it had soured the good mood that her trip to the beach had given her.

On her way to her bike, Shawn gave Gus a call. He was working late that afternoon.

With the recent lull in Psych activity Gus had thrown himself into his pharmaceutical work.

After a Pharmaceutical Rep in his company had been arrested for stalking Shawn, then drugging her, beating her up and dumping her in an alley, Gus had been given some of his more lucrative clients. As a result Gus always seemed to be busy these days.

One man’s loss is another man’s gain.

And Gus seemed to have had only minor qualms about profiting from Shawn’s misery.  To her credit Shawn didn’t care. She only cared how busy he was these days.

And how _not_ busy she was these days.

Gus didn’t pick up his office phone, but he did pick up his cell phone. And Shawn had only needed to call him once. Success. Sometimes Shawn had to call Gus ten or more times, to irritate him into giving in and answering her calls.

‘Hi Shawn’ Gus said. His tone was somewhat clipped.

‘What’s eating you buddy?’ Shawn asked. She hadn’t called him for any particular reason, just to annoy him a little as she finished her coffee, but now that she had, she was interested in finding out what had gotten Gus’ panties in a twist.

‘You need to convince Chief Vick that you’re not going to go to pieces anytime soon. We need a case. I’m going crazy over here.’

‘What?’

‘I’m serious! Today a client told me a golfing anecdote and I laughed. I laughed because I found it genuinely funny. That’s not normal Shawn.’

‘Poor Gus,’ Shawn cooed. ‘Worry not. Shawn is here to the rescue. I guarantee that we’ll have a case soon, ok?’

‘How?’ Gus asked.

‘Uh…I’ll figure that out soon,’ Shawn said.

Gus scoffed and hung up.

Shawn put her cell in her pocket. She threw her now empty coffee cup in a trashcan, put on her helmet, her sunglasses and threw her leg over her motorcycle. Pretty badass if she did say so herself.  

Pity no one was around to see it.

Soon Shawn was at the Police Station.

Sauntering into the bullpen Shawn found that Lassiter was in Chief Vicks office. Needing to talk to Chief Vick and never one to resist an opportunity to irritate Lassiter, even if his hair did look particularly nice today, and she noticed that he was wearing the tie that complimented his eyes perfectly. Shawn decided to kill two birds with one stone and go into Chief Vick’s office regardless.

Before she could reach the door handle however, Shawn heard her name being called.

‘Shawn!’

It was Juliet.

‘Hey Jules,’ Shawn said, as she made her way to Juliet’s desk. ‘What’s the meeting about?’

Shawn gestured to Chief Vick’s office.

‘It’s classified,’ Juliet said hurriedly.

Shawn’s interest was piqued, but from Juliet’s defensive posture it was clear Shawn not going to get any information from her.

Shawn guessed that she wouldn’t be getting a meeting with Chief Vick either.

Eager to leave the office and finish her shopping Juliet quickly finished her paperwork and picked up her purse.

‘Let’s go!’ Juliet said excitedly.

Shawn left her motorcycle at the station, Juliet would drive them.

‘I haven’t seen you about the station very much recently,’ Juliet said lightly during the journey.

‘Chief Vick doesn’t trust me with any of the bigger or challenging cases anymore. So I don’t have any reason to be at the station as much,’ Shawn said honestly.

‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Juliet said, scoffing awkwardly.

Shawn looked at Juliet. Juliet shied from the attention. She looked guilty.

Shawn was shocked.

‘It was you!’ Shawn said. ‘You told Chief Vick to keep me off cases!’

Juliet was silent. But her face told Shawn all she needed to know.

‘Well. Man, I gotta say, I’m a little offended. And a little hurt. Do you really think so little of me, Jules?’

 Shawn tone conveyed humour but the words held some truth.

Juliet was better at interrogating than she was at being interrogated. She broke easily under Shawn’s accusations.

‘No Shawn, of course I don’t think that! I saw how shaken you were after the attack,’ Juliet said. ‘And you had been hurt so badly. I was just worried that taking on cases would be too much, you know. I mean what if you were asked to help on a case and it was similar to yours and it stirred up bad memories? I’d hate to see you go through that again.’

Poor Juliet. She had taken Shawn’s case so badly. It was understandable she wanted to protect Shawn. How could Shawn be upset when Juliet’s actions had come from such a caring place?

‘Any wound physical and mental is long gone Jules, you don’t need to worry about me,’ Shawn said confidently.

That wasn’t entirely truthful. Some scars were best left hidden deep, left to heal at their own pace. But that was Shawn’s business and her business alone.

‘I’m so sorry Shawn,’ Juliet said earnestly. ‘I really thought you’d need a little time to recover. And then I spoke to Detective Lassiter and he said you were shaken up too and if he noticed it, then you had to have been bad.’

‘Wait? Lassie said this?’ Shawn scoffed. ‘Lassiter hasn’t spoken to me since the night of the arrest. He’s been avoiding me.’

Shawn decided not to disclose that on the same night of the arrest, she and the grumpy detective had kissed. Rather passionately if Shawn did say so herself.

Juliet had fallen quiet. She looked rather upset.

Shawn rushed to comfort her.

‘Juliet, my sweet, darling Juliet, you are always looking out for me,’ Shawn said with a smile. ‘You’re the Kelly McGillis to my Tom Cruise.’

 ‘And Gus is of course Val Kilmer,’ Shawn added dutifully.

Juliet smiled a little at that.

‘I don’t know why Lassie has been avoiding me,’ Shawn said, perhaps a little too offhandedly to truly appear nonchalant. ‘He didn’t even yell at me when I stole his cell phone and changed the ringtone to the _Lassie_ theme tune. And when I replaced all this pens and pencils with Red Vines, he didn’t a word. I think he’s mad at me.’

Shawn didn’t mention why Lassiter would be mad at her. Juliet’s brain had enough reasons to supply without Shawn telling her the real reason. Shawn could induce anger in Lassiter quicker than anyone Juliet knew.   

Juliet looked thoughtful as she drove.

‘I suppose Carlton _has_ been acting strange lately,’ she admitted. ‘He’s been in a fouler mood than usual.’

‘I didn’t know that was possible,’ Shawn quipped.

Juliet ignored Shawn. She was deep in thought.

‘He’s not mad at you Shawn. I just think that he was mad about one of his own getting hurt. I know that you and Lassiter have your differences, Shawn, but Lassiter tolerates you because you help solve crimes. And you’re definitely one of the squad down at the station. Everyone was sad when they heard what happened. So I guess that Lassiter was annoyed. He was annoyed that you had gotten hurt in the first place and he was annoyed that you getting attacked meant that you’re not as indestructible as you pretend to be.’

Shawn was confused but as Juliet found a parking spot and turned off her car, she turned to Shawn to explain.

‘Shawn you walk around like nothing bad could ever happen to you. You have a comeback for everything, you’re funny, you swoop into these crime scenes and you get psychic visions about murders that the department don’t even think are murders. And you’re usually right, and there’s something about you, something that makes you, like, indestructible and intangible. And it’s great! And it really worked for you. But when you got attacked you got knocked down to earth, and Lassiter had to realise that you were just a plain old human being like everyone else. I think he’s finding it a little hard to go back to the way it was before. You know Lassiter hates change. He’s probably struggling to cope with the fact that he’s been parrying insults with someone who can cry as well as laugh.’

Shawn for once, was silent, thoughtful.

It was an odd theory, one Shawn had not thought of. But Juliet was a good detective and she worked with Lassiter all the time, maybe she had noticed these things.

Whilst still confused, Shawn had gotten something from the conversation though.

Lassiter wasn’t mad at her.

He wasn’t giving her the silent treatment.

Shawn wouldn’t admit that the feeling in her stomach was relief.


	5. Chapter 5

After leaving Juliet’s car and entering the store Juliet pointed to, Shawn found she was presented with the unenviable task of choosing shoes to match her dress.

Once again Juliet had vetoed Shawn’s original idea for footwear.

Sneakers were a no go.

Damn.

After a moment or two of looking around with resignation Shawn half-heartedly picked up a pair of flats. They were rather plain, but they looked comfortable. She could work with these. Great. Done. Now she could go home and take a nap in the psych office before Gus finished his pharma route.  

Shawn noticed Juliet looking her direction, so she held up the flats to gauge her reaction. Juliet gave Shawn a sad shake of her head. Flats weren’t going to work. Shawn needed heels.

Shawn groaned.

She didn’t really _do_ high heels.  Not when she could wear sneakers that would be far more comfortable. Slowly Shawn put down the pair of flats and picked up the other pair of flats which lay beside them.

Juliet shook her head again. More firmly this time.

When Shawn attempted to pick up a third pair of flats Juliet had to walk over and physically guide Shawn to the heels section, like a mother and her reluctant child.

Sensing this was not a job she could do alone, Juliet called over a sales assistant to help Shawn.

‘And what can I help you with today ma’am?’ asked the polite sales assistant.

‘I’ve got a formal even coming up and I need some heels to match my dress,’ Shawn said.

‘Of course,’ the sales assistant said with a smile. ‘What kind of shoes are you looking for?’

‘Well, my dress is very unique, so I am struggling to find shoes that match.  It’s a floor length yellow dress complete with hand sewn green sequins and diamante. It’s made up of over fifty layers of tulle, all in differing shades of yellow. My dress properly conveys the shape and colour of nature’s greatest fruit, the pineapple. So ideally I’d like my shoes to have little pineapples on them, or large pineapples on them. Maybe even fresh, or tinned pineapples if those are an option. So that they match my headdress which is constructed solely from fresh pineapple and pineapple chunks. But of course if you do not have any shoes like that then any old pineapple-themed shoes would do just fin- ouch!’

Shawn found her description of her imaginary outfit had been cut short by a sharp nip from Juliet.

‘Ignore her,’ Juliet said to the sales assistant, whose smile had become a little forced looking. ‘Gold heels will do just fine.’

The sale assistant, eager to make her escape, went to find Shawn some suitable shoes.

‘Make sure the heels aren’t too high,’ Shawn called after the assistant. ‘I get vitiligo.’

'It's vertigo Shawn,' Juliet corrected. 'And no you don't.'

'Really?' Shawn looked a little confused. 'I suppose now the Hitchcock film makes more sense.'

Juliet stared at Shawn. It was a familiar expression. 

Shawn attempted to look wide eyed and innocent. Perhaps it would have been more effective if Juliet hadn’t known exactly what Shawn was like. Juliet narrowed her eyes. 

Whilst the shop assistant was in the back of the store, searching for gold heels or pineapple heels or whatever would get Shawn to leave the store quickest, Juliet found a fetching pair of gold and diamante heels which matched her dress perfectly.

The shop assistant returned a little while later with one box under her arm. It was a pair of gold heels, they were covered in gold glitter and looked fancy. They were a sensible height which was a comfort to Shawn.

Not a pineapple in sight.

Regardless, Shawn found she was happy with them. But Juliet wanted her to get something higher, more daring.

Thankfully the sale assistant said that the heels Shawn was trying on were the only gold shoes in her size they had in the store.

Good. Anything higher and Shawn knew would definitely fall.

Cunning and good looks?

Check.

Charm and humour?

Check.

Balance?

Not so much.

‘Jules, these shoes will be fine,’ Shawn said to Juliet, keen to assuage her doubts. ‘They’ll be better for dancing.’

Juliet smiled as Shawn boogied a little on the spot then wobbled precariously on her unfamiliar heels.

‘That’s true Shawn,’ Juliet said. ‘But unlike you, I need the extra height. I’m going to risk some higher heels.’

True to her word, the next shoes Juliet tried on were a damn sight higher than Shawn’s shoes.

Shawn felt that Juliet’s heels would have been able to double as an ice pick at any given moment. But where Shawn moved like exaggerated Arnold Schwarzenegger on roller skates whilst in heels, Juliet was far more composed and assured.  She tested the shoes, walking around the store a little, even doing a little dance to check their stability. Apparently satisfied with the death traps in shoe form Juliet asked to purchase them.

Shawn’s respect for Juliet was at an all-time high.

Both women bought their shoes and made their way to their next stop, a shop for costume jewellery and handbags.

But by now Shawn’s purse was hurting and she wasn’t willing to spend any more money.

She didn’t need any jewellery.

She didn’t even have her ears pierced.

And as for a bag, Shawn resolved that she just wouldn’t bring anything.

Simple.

Juliet rolled her eyes at Shawn’s decision and looked through clutches and necklaces. Eventually she chose a simple gold clutch and a diamante necklace which would suit her dress and shoes perfectly.

Shopping finally complete Juliet gave Shawn a lift back to the station.

Once there Shawn shoved her new and impractically pretty shoes into the motorbike compartment under the seat. Then she got on her bike and made her way straight to Henry’s. Her dad had invited Shawn and Gus for dinner and as usual, Shawn was running late. Shawn's thoughts shifted from fashion to food.

She hoped that her Dad and Gus hadn’t eaten everything before she got there.


	6. Chapter 6

When Shawn arrived at her father’s Gus and Henry had already started their meal. And, by the time Shawn was at the dinner table, Gus and her father had already eaten all the good bits.

‘There’s no drumsticks left!’ Shawn complained as she pulled up a chair.

‘Well don’t be late then Shawn, you should know that by now,’ her father replied.

‘You know that’s right,’ Gus agreed as he took a bite out of the chicken leg that Shawn had wanted.

‘Come on Gus,’ sighed Shawn. ‘Don’t be that one guy at the wedding no one is sure they invited.’

Gus furrowed his brows in confusion but continued to eat his chicken leg.

Henry picked up the other leg which was on his plate, eating it with deliberate bites to maximise Shawn’s feelings of chicken drumstick envy.

‘You are traitors to me,’ Shawn said grumpily as she heaped the less appealing chicken slices onto her plate.

‘So Shawn,’ Henry said conversationally, chicken leg in hand. ‘Being invited to the California Annual Police Awards Gala. That’s an honour.’

Shawn sighed.

‘I’m sick talking about it already,’ she said.

‘What? But it’s only Thursday. It’s not for another two days.’

‘You don’t understand Dad. Do you know what I’ve been doing for the past two days? I’ve been shopping. I’ve visited every store and boutique in Santa Barbara in preparation for this stupid Gala. I had a conversation with a sales assistant on skin tone for over an hour.’

Henry snorted.

‘You’d love it,’ Shawn said. ‘With all your metrosexual hand creams and fake tanning. I’m sure you’re just dying to know if you have cool or warm undertones. It’d help you choose which atrocious Hawaiian shirt you should wear to compliment your skin better.’

Gus sniggered and Henry glared at him.

Unwilling to incur Henry’s wrath, Gus focussed his attention back onto his plate.

‘This is a pretty prestigious awards ceremony Shawn,’ Henry said seriously. ‘Lassiter should be proud he was even recommended for an award let alone having won an award.’

‘You can rest safe,’ Gus said. ‘I’m sure that Lassiter is letting everybody know just how proud he is that he has won an award. And he damn well won’t let anyone forget it in a hurry. Do you remember that time Lassiter bragged for two months about his name being on the front page of the newspapers on that embezzlement case?’

Shawn nodded. Her mouth was too full of food to contribute to the conversation so she let Gus tell the story.

‘They didn’t even say his full name,’ Gus continued. ‘It said SBPD detective C. Lass- Story continued on page seventeen. He framed it and put it on his desk at the police department.’

Henry snorted.

‘That sounds about right,’ he said.

With dinner finished Shawn, Gus and Henry made their way to the living room, idly continuing their conversation. But Gus had to leave soon after the meal.  He insisted that he had a performance review tomorrow morning and he needed to be as refreshed as possible. And with Gus gone Shawn was enlisted to help Henry tidy up and wash the dishes. Shawn had hoped she could trick Gus into doing them before he left, but no such luck.

Darn it.

With Shawn scrubbing the plates clean and Henry drying them the father and daughter fell into their old and familiar routine.

They washed dishes in silence for a moment, content to let the only sounds be the faint clink of the plates in the sink and the noise of the television still on in the other room.

‘I wasn’t joking exaggerating earlier Shawn,’ Henry said, as he set down the plate he had just finished drying.  ‘It _is_ a great honour to receive an award at the California Annual Police Awards Gala. You really have to congratulate and thank Mr Lassiter.’

Shawn frowned.

‘I think he’s avoiding me at the moment,’ Shawn said slowly.

Henry shrugged. ‘From what I’ve heard he tries to avoid you most of the time, Shawn. What’s the difference?’

Shawn’s frown faded a little.

‘I’ll thank Lassiter when I can,’ Shawn promised.

Henry looked content.

Shawn felt a little less than.


	7. Chapter 7

Shawn rolled out of bed at noon, awakened by the noise of her cell phone ringing. She fumbled around her room blearily, half blind. She finally found her cell underneath her jeans, hidden in her sneakers on the floor.

She didn’t even question its placement. Shawn was not known for her organization.

She looked at the name of the caller illuminated on her phone screen. It was Juliet.

‘Hello?’ Shawn said, thinly concealing the grogginess of her voice.

‘Hi Shawn,’ replied Juliet. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything but there are some small cases that the Chief would like you to take a look at. I know they’re not big cases but I did advise her that it might be time to start calling upon your psychic services for larger cases again.’

Shawn broke into a grin.

‘Oh Jules, I know I loved you for a reason.’ Shawn said, excited, all traces of sleep gone. ‘I am of course overrun with cases at the moment. I’m swamped. Super busy, you know? But I suppose I could make a gap in my schedule, squeeze in a visit to the station to have a look at some cases. In fact I’ll just make my way over now.’

Juliet laughed knowingly as she ended the call.

Shawn put down her cell phone and fist pumped the air. Cases at last!

Shawn got dressed quickly and rushed down to the station. The cases may be small but she’d still get paid. Money always made a powerful motivator.

At the station, Shawn read through the case files quickly and eagerly. There was a missing cat, which was laying low having kittens, a lost watch, left at the pool and a man reported missing who had eloped with his pregnant girlfriend. They were easily solved. Shawn felt a little deflated. She had hoped for a little more of a challenge.

Juliet hadn’t been joking about small cases. Shawn had gotten her hopes up it seemed.

Shawn wondered if there was some larger case that was taking up the detective’s time. Something that meant the smaller cases were placed in the hands of people like Shawn while the detectives were busy having fun solving the cooler cases.

Shawn hated the _Top Secret_ Cases she wasn’t a part of.  She felt like she was the one kid in the classroom left out of the joke. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to solve cases too.

Shawn sniffed discontentedly and put down the now-solved case files, feeling a little petulant. She looked around the bullpen in the hopes she would see something that would attract her attention.

No such luck.

It seemed that everyone was more focused on the excitement of the impending Gala tomorrow evening than the work of that day.

Shawn could see that a number of the cops looked a lot better groomed than normal. Not that that was a particularly hard feat.

Buzz had gotten a haircut which Shawn had commented favourably on when she entered the station that afternoon. He had blushed and said that his wife liked it. And Shawn noticed that in her office, Chief Vick was sporting a healthy glow and had gotten her hair highlighted. It seemed that Juliet was not the only one opting for a little tan from a bottle.

A thrill of excitement filled the air.

Anticipation.

It was like high-schoolers on the days leading up to prom. All work was put on the back burner, all classes weren’t taken seriously, and all attention was focused upon prom.

Finding nothing better to do that people watch Shawn decided it was probably time to leave finish up her ‘work’ so she could leave. Her final job at the station was to do the _big reveal_ , the ‘ta-da’ moment which would leave her audience impressed.  Solve the cases, collect her pay check and go home.

Shawn, walked into the Chief’s office and solved the smaller cases in a typically Psychic-esque, right hand to her temple, left hand on the stack of case files before her. There may or may not have been some gyration involved, simply for the benefit of Juliet and Chief Vick.

But before Chief Vick could sarcastically but firmly insist that Shawn leave her office with no more distractions Shawn received a call.

A client wished to meet her at the Psych office. She texted Gus told him to meet her there. Gus would be enthused to say the least. Shawn said her farewells to Juliet and the Chief and made her way out of the station.

Shawn left the police department, excited at the prospect of a case slightly more interesting than a missing cat. It had been far too long.

She hoped it was something juicy that she could get her teeth into.

In her excitement and focused on the possibility of a case Shawn wasn’t watching where she was going. As she rushed out the large double doors of the precinct she bumped into Lassiter who was re-entering the station coffee in hand. Shawn walked straight into his broad chest and almost spilled the scalding coffee he held in his hands over both of them.

Luckily Lassiter moved his hand just in time. The coffee sloshed in the cup but did not spill over. Shawn took a quick step back and removed her hands from where they had gone to Lassiter’s chest in an effort to keep her balance.

Both said the customary rushed apologies, but Lassiter avoided eye contact and walked into the bullpen before anything more could be said.

Shawn left the station feeling a little confused. She had expected some rage or exasperation. Derision and sarcasm. Instead she got nothing.

Had Lassiter always been this hard to read?

Shawn found her thoughts dwelled on that question the entirety of her journey to the office.

At the Psych office, Gus and Shawn waited for their client. Much to Shawn’s disappointment, and the outright dismay of Gus, it was nothing more than a simple open and close case.

They didn’t even need to leave the office.

Sitting behind their respective desks, Shawn and Gus managed to look rather professional when their client arrived. It made a change from the foosball competitions, arm wrestling matches and occasional nose hair plucking sessions that often were in the midst of occurring when clients paid a visit.

The woman who walked in the office was an older woman, no younger than fifty, no older than sixty. Make-up and mild cosmetic surgery had served to both conceal and highlight her age. She had no wrinkles, but she had that odd expressionlessness of an individual poked and prodded with needles too much.

The woman was attractive as long as one only looked at her clothes and make-up. Otherwise she was quite plain, and her expression was haughty and disdainful. But of course she had turned focussing attention on clothes and make-up into an art form. Keep all eyes on the make-up and finery and away from the unstoppable aging process.

The woman looked rather as though she had been forced to enter the Psych offices against her will, even though it was she who had made the appointment herself. She held herself tightly together, designer purse clutched tightly to her side, back straight, not out of emotional vulnerability but out of distain. Her small, surgically acquainted mouth tightened. The light coral of her lipstick served to make her lips look pouting, but the overall effect didn’t quite add up.

Shawn noticed the small photo the women held in her hand. It was an image of a younger woman with a carefree smile upon her face. Shawn could tell the family likeness even with all the surgery.

And she had seen that image before.

It had been in one of the files she had glanced over at the stations, earlier that afternoon. The woman in the picture was younger and far less pregnant, but it was definitely her. The soon-to-be wife of a man who had been reported missing, the couple that Shawn had suspected eloped.

Before the woman even got a chance to speak, Shawn placed a hand to her head and places a hand to her stomach.

Adopting an odd high pitched voice to mimic that of the missing daughter Shawn said, ‘Oh dear, where did you go? I… I can’t find you! Where are you? Momma?’

She returned to her normal voice, ‘You’ve lost someone important to you. A daughter perhaps?’

The woman’s eyes widened. In her surprise she had forgotten to look haughty and instead looked shocked. Which was quite a feat given the amount of silicone that had probably been injected into her face.

Not content with just a little surprise, Shawn aimed towards amazement.

If that week Shawn had worked as server in Texas had taught Shawn anything, it was that bigger was always better.  Go big or go home.

Shawn flung herself across the room and draped herself on Gus’ desk. 

She made a pathetic noise.

‘I sense an argument took place,’ Shawn said.

The woman nodded and sobbed loudly. Gus stood up, stepped around Shawn, who was still sprawled on his desk and offered the woman a box of tissues.  Whilst the woman was wiping her eyes, Gus glared at Shawn. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was up to, but he knew that making their clients cry sure didn’t equate to good customer satisfaction. And they hadn’t even gotten this customer’s name yet, let alone their bank details.

Gus’ expression was the classic _This Better Be Worth It Shawn_ look.

‘Your daughter’s missing,’ Shawn said, standing up suddenly, her face somewhat serious. ‘The spirits told me all about you Mrs White. They tell me your daughter is pregnant. You didn’t approve of the father. So they ran away.’

The client, now known to Gus as Mrs White, blew her nose into a tissue loudly.

‘He’s a mechanic. A _mechanic!’_ ejaculated Ms White. ‘What would the neighbours think? Mrs Anderson’s daughter is dating a college professor. The Washington’s son married a billionaire. Why couldn’t she just date up in the world and make me proud?’

Shawn looked at the woman before her with some sympathy in her eyes. Shawn could tell that Mrs White cared about her daughter and in a weird way she only wanted what was best for her.

‘She’s safe and happy,’ Shawn said softly.

The relief in Mrs White’s eyes was an almost palpable emotion.

‘She’ll return when she’s ready. And she’ll come back a happily married woman. The spirits are telling me that it does not do well to hate people. You should just accept your new son in law, ma’am. Love works in mysterious ways.’

Shawn looked at Mrs White with world-wise eyes. It always looked good to finish with vague statements and then act as if they carried some deep meaning, forcing the client to look inward upon themselves and their actions.

Once again it seemed to prove successful as Mrs White seemed to experience some sort of revelation in the middle of the Psych office. Her face filled with comprehension and acceptance and she smiled widely at Shawn.

‘Thank you,’ Mrs White said, as she pulled Shawn into a bone-crushing hug. She was remarkably strong for a woman who looked like her only hobbies were fad-dieting, minor cosmetic surgery and drinking by the poolside.

‘Don’t thank me,’ Shawn said self-effacingly. ‘Thank the spirits.  And then thank me. As the spirits conduit and their earthly vessel I do appreciate your gratitude, especially when the gratitude is in the form of dollars, sterling, yen or zlotys.’

‘We don’t accept zlotys,’ Gus said.

‘Not zlotys,’ amended Shawn easily.

It seemed Mrs White was all too willing to show her gratitude to the psychic detectives. On her way out Mrs White payed twice the requested free plus a generous tip. Gus looked at the cheque in his hand and whistled appreciatively.

‘Okay Shawn, how did you know all that stuff?’ asked Gus.

‘I saw the girl’s picture earlier at the station. Her fiancé’s parents had filed a missing person’s report and  I had guessed that they had ran away to get married as their families were so opposed to it.’

‘Oh,’ said Gus, a little less impressed.

‘Come on man, don’t sound so disappointed. What did you expect? You should be pleased that I managed to get double our commission. Now we can buy that popcorn machine we wanted!’

‘The popcorn machine _you_ wanted,’ corrected Gus.

‘Whatever,’ Shawn said dismissively.

With nothing better to do for the rest of the day Shawn and Gus ordered takeaway to the Psych office, turned on the TV and watched whatever trash Gus had recorded on DVR.

When Shawn finally returned to her apartment it was closer to morning than night.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a knock at the door.

Shawn jolted awake at the noise. Face shoved deep in her pillow, the ever-welcoming friend, Shawn felt about her bed blindly, searching for her cell phone which  she was almost certain was lying somewhere underneath the mountain of covers.

Cell phone finally located Shawn blearily opened her eyes to check the time.

She whimpered.

It was 6am.

She had only gotten left the office at 3am.

Shawn decided that, as the owner of her own business, she was very qualified to make important decisions. Shawn made the executive businesswoman decision to shove her head into pillow, ignore the door and attempt to fall back to oblivion.

There was another knock at the door. More insistent this time.

Accepting defeat, Shawn rolled out of bed, still wrapped in her bedsheets, and shuffled to the door, groaning softly.

‘Who is it?’ Shawn called as she approached the door.

‘It’s Juliet,’ replied a disturbingly chipper voice.

It was 6am. Chipper was not socially acceptable for another three hours. Maybe four.

Shawn clicked open her locks, opened the door and let Juliet in.

‘What happened?’ Shawn asked somewhat confused. ‘Is there a case?’

Juliet laughed.

‘No Shawn,’ Juliet said. ‘It’s the day of the Gala. It’s time to start getting ready. I’ve booked all our appointments super early and I just called around to make sure you were ready.’

Shawn, very clearly, was not ready. Her hair was a great example of bed-head, nothing like the usual styled hair she favoured, and she was wearing an old t-shirt and boxer shorts combo that served as her pyjamas, underneath her bed covers. And she could tell without looking that there were bags under her eyes so big she could give pandas a serious run for their money. Shawn gave Juliet a look.

‘I’ll make some coffee whilst you get ready?’ Juliet offered with a smile.

Shawn nodded gratefully and opened the door more fully to allow Juliet into her apartment. She waved her hand in the general direction of the kitchen area, invited Juliet to make herself at home and headed to the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn appeared from the shower looking slightly more human. Once dressed, she felt even better. After a mug of coffee Shawn was practically back to her normal self.

Sitting side by side at the small dining table, Juliet began to list all the things that she and Shawn were going to be doing that day. Shawn could only nod and sip at her coffee as Juliet and her perfect organisation took over. 

First thing on the agenda was the salon for the waxing appointment.

Well.

Shawn was not going to be doing that again in a hurry. She only managed to get her legs and armpits waxed and that was more than enough, thank-you very much. The results whilst impressive were not worth the pain involved. Shawn was a wimp. There was no shame involved there. She’d admit it.

Shawn couldn’t believe people voluntarily paid for beauticians to torture them like that. The next time Shawn saw anyone approach her general vicinity with a pot of molten wax she’d run in the opposite direction. She’d stick to shaving in the future.

Making her excuses to the bemused beautician, Shawn made her escape and waited for Juliet to finish up.

Thankfully next on the list wasn’t another strange form of self-inflicted torture. Juliet had booked them in for manicures and pedicures and a cucumber facial. Far less painful and far more enjoyable, Shawn felt.  Cucumber slices were a little more appealing than molten wax.

Taking a sip of her complimentary berry smoothie, Shawn enjoyed the feeling of being pampered. With her feet being massaged and her nails being painted she started to think that maybe she could get used to beautifying. It was a hard job, but someone had to do it.

By the time Shawn and Juliet had perfect nails and skin so soft that babies throughout the world were green with envy, it was nearly noon.

Next on Shawn and Juliet’s to-do list was spray-tanning.

Shawn, who spent the majority of her free time on the beach, did not require a spray tan. Her skin already had a healthy glow, but Juliet wished to gain a little more colour. Unlike Shawn, Juliet had a real job to do, and she couldn’t spend hours lying on a beach perfecting her tan.

So whilst Juliet was busy being air-brushed into a sun goddess, Shawn sipped idly at her second smoothie of the day, pineapple, whilst getting a head massage from a very attractive and very muscular young man.

His name was Nikolai and his biceps were bigger than her whole head. 

Yes indeed, Shawn could get used to this.

Beautification, buffing and bronzing over, it was time to get a little lunch. And after a delightful lunch filled with conversation and laughter it was back to business, time for hair and make-up.

Shawn and Juliet left the hair salon a little later than intended. But Shawn was confident that she and Juliet had to be the two hottest women in Santa Barbara. And Shawn was including any supermodels that happened to live in the area and any movie stars that happened to be passing by.

Whilst Shawn was more than a little disbelieving that she had spent a whole day getting prepared and pampered she couldn’t deny it wasn’t worth it.

Damn, she looked good.

After Shawn had stopped to check her reflection on every shiny or semi-reflective surface in Santa Barbara, Juliet had given up trying to make Shawn walk any faster and had realised the best course of action would be to return with Shawn to her car.

With Narcissus Spencer finally in the car but now temporarily distracted by her own reflection on the sun visor mirror, Juliet continued the conversation easily. She was partnered with Carlton Lassiter, who was a man of few words, and those few words tended to be angry ones. Cunning conversationalist he was not, and so Juliet was more than adept at picking up conversations and carrying them on by herself.  She talked though everything she would need to do that evening to finalise preparations, dresses, shoes, making sure her cell phone was completely charged, call at an ATM to get some cash and other such things. Shawn was content to let Juliet speak, her words and excitement flowed in the car easily and Shawn found Juliet’s excitement was becoming quite contagious.

It was only once the pair returned to Shawn’s apartment that Shawn realised how much time had passed. Time really did fly when one was having fun. It was now the early evening and Shawn found that she would have to get dressed for the Gala soon.

‘I’ve got to go now,’ Juliet said, standing up to leave as she too noticed the late hour. ‘Once I drive home I won’t have long to get ready.’

‘We’ve spent all day getting ready,’ Shawn quipped.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Juliet said, rolling her eyes. She gave Shawn a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Don’t go eating anything that might smudge your make-up while I’m away. I know you won’t be able to fix that on your own.’

‘You know me far too well, Jules,’ Shawn replied.

Juliet smirked as she closed Shawn’s apartment door and headed home.


	9. Chapter 9

Shawn kicked off her sneakers and looked at the clock on her wall. The day had rushed by. The hair salon, whilst brilliant, had been running behind schedule and Shawn found that she had less than an hour left before she had to leave for the Gala. Gus would be arriving shortly to drive them both to the event. The only thing left for Shawn to do was get dressed.

Shawn went to her bedroom to throw on her dress.

She revised the statement in her mind hurriedly.

She would not _throw on_ her dress. She would make her way to the bedroom to put on her dress delicately and carefully and ensuring that she wouldn’t mess up her hair or make-up, for fear of incurring the wrath of Juliet.

Shawn took the dress out of its protective bag and looked at it for a second. It felt a little surreal to Shawn that this was _her_ dress. That this was something she owned and something she would be expected to wear.

Shawn unbuttoned her shirt with care. She worried that a stray button would catch in her hair and undo its careful coiffing. With rather less care she kicked off her sneakers and pulled down her jeans.

Next Shawn unclasped her bra with as much care as she had afforded her shirt, she didn’t want a clasp stuck in her hair.

The dress she was to wear plunged slightly at the front. Not so much as to be risqué, but enough that Shawn had to forgo a bra for the evening.  

Shawn left her clothes where they had fallen haphazardly about the floor and her bed to be tidied up later, date and time unknown.

Her bra, which she flung onto her bed made the final addition to Shawn’s clothing discards.

Now it was time to put on the dress.

This was a task easier said than done.

Shawn could have sworn that the dress had been far easier to put on in the store.

Perhaps it was because at the store Shawn did not have salon perfected blown-out waves of hair, full face of made-up and a fresh manicure.

Perhaps it was witchcraft.

Shawn suspected it was both.

When trying on the dress initially, whilst still in the store, Shawn had rifled through the layers at the bottom of the dress to find the middle then pulled it over her head, tugged it down and then adjusted everything into place. It hadn’t been pretty and it hadn’t been elegant but it had worked.

Shawn didn’t think it would fly this time though. 

Instead Shawn unzipped the back of the dress and set it gently onto the floor. She stepped into the dress and wiggled it up into place.  It had been a stroke of genius. Step one was complete.

The second challenge was the zip. How had Shawn done this in the store?

Oh that’s right.

She hadn’t.

Juliet had helped.

Crap.

It took seven minutes, inventive expletives not to be repeated in polite company, the most minimal of panicking, and a few moves that would have impressed a contortionist before Shawn managed to get the dress zipped up.

But at least now Shawn knew for sure that she wasn’t double jointed.

Dress on and zipped up Shawn turned her attention to the white box sitting on her bed. She groaned. The box contained her heels. Shawn decided she had gone through enough in the last few minutes. She deserved a small reprieve before struggling with high heels.

A knock at the door gave Shawn exactly the reprieve she was looking for.

_Gus is early_ , thought Shawn.

Shawn made her way to the door and looked through the peephole. It was a new habit she had picked up, but these days Shawn preferred erring on the side of caution.

Unlike Shawn had suspected it was not Gus. Instead it was her father. And he had not come alone. He had brought his camera.

It really was like prom all over again.

Except this time her father couldn’t complain about Gus’ braces reflecting the camera’s flash, or Shawn’s dress being too puffy to fit in frame, or whatever else he had found to complain about.

Shawn unlocked the door and took the security chain off its latch. Shawn really had been a little more security conscious of late. 

Opening the door she allowed her father entry into her apartment.

Henry’s eyes widened when she opened the door. For a brief second Shawn could have sworn she had rendered him speechless. But Henry was not without words easily.

‘What? Are you going to move to let me in or will I stand out here all day, Shawn?’ Henry groused.

Shawn rolled her eyes but stepped aside to let her father in.

A short while later Gus arrived.

‘No corsage?’ Shawn asked dryly. ‘You wound me Mr Gustor.’

‘We’re not going to prom, Shawn. You don’t need a corsage,’ Gus said dismissively.

Placing his jacket over the back of Shawn’s couch, Gus stood back and took in Shawn’s appearance.

‘Damn, Shawn, you’re looking good. You’re a solid Nine-point-Five,’ Gus said appreciatively.

Shawn smiled.

‘You’re a strong Nine yourself. But if you fixed your bow tie a little you’d gain a few points,’ Shawn said with a smirk.

Gus straightened his bowtie and gave Shawn a winning smile. Shawn nodded appreciatively.

‘Straight Tens across the board buddy,’ she said.

Henry, sick of the conversational banter between the two friends stood up stiffly from the couch and picked up his camera.

‘Yes, yes, you’re both numbers. Great. Good for you two,’ he grumbled. ‘Now get over here, I didn’t bring my camera for nothing.’

‘Oh, wait!’ Shawn said. ‘I need my shoes.’

Shawn rushed to her bedroom and slipped on her heels. When she returned Gus had put on his jacket and adjusted his bow tie. Henry began to snap some pictures.

‘Hey dad, do you need a tissue? Your eyes look pretty watery,’ Shawn teased.

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about Shawn,’ Henry responded. He sniffed a little. ‘Now stand closer to Gus and smile. Smile like you are happy to be here, Shawn, not like you’re being held against your will.’

‘That’s debatable,’ Shawn said through grinning teeth.

With the photoshoot finishing up, Shawn was already having second thoughts about wearing heels. Not that she had any other choice.

It wasn’t that they were causing her pain or discomfort, no that would occur later in the evening. It was because, with the added height given by the heels, Shawn was taller than Gus. This was a strange occurrence, as they were usually the exact same height.

Gus hadn’t taken the turn of events too well.

‘Gus, get off your tip toes, you look like an idiot,’ snapped Henry, lowering the camera.

‘And what, be shorter than Shawn? No way is that going to happen,’ Gus countered.

‘What about seventh grade?’ Shawn said.

‘That doesn’t count. Everybody knows that girls start puberty earlier than guys.’

‘So you keep saying, but that didn’t stop me being five inches taller than you for the whole year.’

‘It wasn’t five inches, Shawn. It was a couple of inches at most.’

‘It was not. You were the one who make us compare heights on a height chart every week until you caught up with me!’

Henry raised an eyebrow. An eyebrow that had been carefully trained over the years to make even the most hardened criminal feel miniscule. It was a no nonsense glare, and it did exactly what it was intended to do.

Gus lowered his heels. Shawn shut up and looked guilty.

‘Alright _kids_ ,’ Henry said. ‘If you can stop your bickering for five minutes so I can take these pictures, then we can all be on our way.’

He calculated every word to make the pair of idiots in front of him feel at least a little remorseful about their actions. There were definitely no sentimental tears in Henry’s eyes now.

With the pictures finished and Shawn and Gus’ childish argument well and truly abated, Henry was ready to leave.

‘You guys need a lift?’ Henry asked as the three made their way out of Shawn’s apartment and towards the elevator.

‘Nah, Gus is driving us,’ Shawn replied.

‘Well, you guys have fun,’ Henry said.

‘It’s an Award’s Gala, Dad. It’s against the rules to have fun.’

Henry snorted and climbed into his truck. Shawn and Gus climbed into the Blueberry and made their way out of the parking lot.

‘I have to admit,’ Shawn said to Gus, ‘with the exception of the car, I’m feeling very James Bond right now.’

‘No way Shawn, if anyone is James Bond here. It’s me.’ Gus countered. He gave Shawn a winning smile and adjusted his bow tie smugly.

Shawn slumped a little in the passenger seat.

‘Man, you’re right,’ she reluctantly agreed. ‘Guys get all the fun formalwear. I swear the next gala we go to, I’m wearing a suit. Then I’d be James Bond. See who has a licence to kill then.’

‘Having a suit doesn’t give you a licence to kill, Shawn.’

The ensuing argument lasted the entirety of the journey to the Gala. 


	10. Chapter 10

Shawn stepped out of Gus’ car carefully when they arrived at the Gala. She didn’t want everybody’s first impression to be her falling out of the car onto the gravel.

If she were going to make a terrible impression she’d do it on her own time.

With the first obstacle of leaving the blueberry whilst maintaining dignity thankfully overcome, Shawn spared a glance at the other groups of people preparing to enter the Gala. Shawn was immediately relived to find that she was not as overdressed as she felt.  In fact, she seemed to have dressed just perfectly. Her outfit was a combination of sultry sexiness, classic elegance and subtle class.

Not bad if she did say so herself.

A marginally self-satisfied smile graced Shawn’s face as she entered the Gala. She linked arms with Gus, more for the physical support than emotional support.

Shawn had managed to get out of the car without falling on her ass. The next challenge was descending the flight of stairs into the reception area without doing so. Leaning heavily on Gus helped, even if he did complain the entire time.

‘Come on Shawn!’ Gus groused. ‘I feel like I’m walking with my grandma. If you’re any slower by the time we get down these stairs the party’s going to be over.’

‘Hey man,’ Shawn said, feigning hurt. Gus knew better than to take her seriously and so continued his grumbling until they finally reached the bottom of the staircase.

Descending the stairs safely, if not overly gracefully, Shawn and Gus entered the Gala.

‘Shawn, I have to go, I’ll see you during the meal,’ Gus said hurriedly.

Shawn frowned but Gus had removed his arm and went into the crowd before Shawn could protest.

 _Where’s he got to go in such a rush?_ pondered Shawn idly.  They had barely stepped in the door.

Thankfully Shawn was no stranger to social events and was not fazed by being left alone. Granted the social events she attended were usually not as formal as _The California Annual Police Awards Gala_ and chips and beer bong was the accepted substitute to the strawberry and champagne reception. But nevertheless Shawn was a world champion at mingling and exchanging pleasantries.

An ever useful bonus for Shawn was how well known she was by the police force, both young and old. She had spent her childhood in the Santa Barbara Police Department. She had grown up among the men and woman who worked there. It was nice to see so many old faces and exchange memories.  They too were pleased to see Shawn all grown up and still involved with the SBPD. She made her way over to a large group of cops she remembered from the SBPD in her father’s day. They looked as uncomfortable in their tuxes as Shawn did in her dress. It was nice to know she wasn’t alone.

Shawn and the old cops exchanged the usual pleasantries and talked for a little while. Shawn promised that she’d meet up with them sometime, exchange stories and old antics, have a drink or two, and then kick their asses at poker. The old cops laughed, they knew that was true.

The other people at the Gala Shawn knew were the cops still on the force. She walked through the crowded room knowing that it was only a matter of time before she saw someone else she knew. She had hoped to see Juliet, but no such luck so far.

As she had been abandoned by Gus the moment they had entered the reception, Shawn was eager to find someone to kill a little time with. Despite the fact that the crowd in the reception area was growing ever larger and was filled with unfamiliar faces, this task was a little easier than expected when she saw a friendly face wave at her through the crowd.

Buzz McNab towered over everyone in his surrounding area making it easy for him to spot people in the crowd. When he spotted Shawn, Buzz broke into a goofy grin and waved her over. Buzz’s height also had the reciprocal bonus that it made Shawn easier to see him. She noticed his waving almost instantly. Her problem of finding a companion was quickly ended.  

As she made her way over, Shawn realised that Buzz wasn’t alone. He was accompanied by the lovely Mrs Buzz McNab. Or at least a woman Shawn assumed was his wife.

The suspected Mrs McNab was adorable, all blonde bouncing curls and a blinding white smile filled with kindness. Shawn could tell from a glance that she was a teacher, probably elementary school, or maybe kindergarten.

If she wasn’t then she should seriously consider a career change.

Walking over to the pair, Shawn cracked an easy smile, ‘Hey Buzz, you’re looking great!’

It was true, Buzz did look great, if very uncomfortable, in his tuxedo.

‘And you must be the lovely Mrs McNabb,’ Shawn said with a smile. ‘If I had an elementary school teacher as sweet as you perhaps I wouldn’t have had a reserved seat outside of the principal’s office.’

Mrs McNab looked surprised and then very excited.

‘Oh my gosh! You must be Shawn!’ she gushed. ‘I’ve heard so much about you! You’re the psychic who works with the SBPD. I’m Francine. Francine McNab, but I’m sure you already knew that. ’

Shawn nodded. ‘I did, but not from Buzz.  Buzz is so professional he rarely talks about his home life. But the spirits have told me a lot about you Francine. I’m so glad to finally meet you.’

Francine McNab looked like she may explode with excitement and a build-up of questions, but before she could say anything more, she was nipped in the bud by a tinkling of bells and a booming voice asking everyone present to proceed into the dining area. A seating order would be provided.

Great, at the very least Shawn would be able to find Gus. She hoped her seating order would be favourable. She knew that, as her plus one, she would definitely be sitting next to Gus. She hoped the person at her other side would be someone she knew. But for every person in the crowd Shawn recognised, there were twenty boring and slightly tipsy cops in ill-fitting tuxes and boxy dresses which were designed for comfort and the ability to conceal a police issued weapon rather than fashion and beauty. Shawn didn’t much fancy having to be surrounded by California’s Finest, who could only talk shop.

If only she could sit at a table with the Chief, Juliet and Lassiter.

Lassiter.

Lassiter and his tuxedo.

Well, that was a sight that Shawn had been looking forward to.

Or was she?

Shawn didn’t really want to think about it too much. She _tried_ not to think about it too much. Her heart always ached a little when she thought about Lassiter these days.

Momentarily lost in thought Shawn practically walked into Gus who was standing right in front of her.

‘Oh hey man, I didn’t see you there,’ Shawn said. ‘Where did you run off to? Did you eat week-old shrimp again? Come on buddy, no one’s stomach can handle that.’

‘What? No Shawn, I did not eat week-old shrimp,’ Gus protested. ‘And you promised you’d never mention that again. You were the one who gave it to me! I was in the bathroom for two days Shawn. Two days!’

Gus had deflected the real question but Shawn didn’t care enough to press. She allowed Gus to continue his grumbling all the way to their table. Gus had already checked the seating chart and found where they would be sitting. It was ten to a large, round table. Shawn didn’t recognise the name to her right, just her luck, but Gus would be on her left. That was all that really mattered.

Sitting down at the table took a little more effort than Shawn was accustomed. She had to manoeuvre her dress so that she could sit down, then she had to push in her chair slowly, bit by bit, ensuring her long dress didn’t get caught on the chair legs. Finally she had to adjust the dress one final time to ensure that it didn’t sit oddly or crumple horribly during the meal. Once seated Shawn found she was forced to sit with perfect posture. She felt like a china doll on some old lady’s shelf.

Once she had finally managed to get into her seat, albeit inelegantly, Shawn picked up the small name card that sat on the table before her.  In an extravagantly flourished calligraphy it bore the name _Shawn Spencer._ The card was thick and good quality. Her father hadn’t been kidding when he said this was a prestigious event. Shawn bet that the restroom had liquid soap in some fancy ceramic dispenser and an unnecessary amount of fresh flowers. It probably had an attendant too.

Shawn looked to her left to share her observation with Gus, but found that he had not yet sat down. Instead he was quickly re-arranging name cards around the table. Shawn’s brow furrowed.

‘Dude, what are you doing?’ Shawn asked, but she gasped in mock horror before he could answer.

Gus had checked the table setting list so Shawn didn’t need to see it, and now he was rearranging name cards.

Gus knew someone else at the table.

Shocking.

‘Who is it?’ Shawn asked, accusation in her tone.

Shawn wanted to hear the answer from Gus, but she had guessed pretty quickly. It was the girl Gus had been dating. Gus had mentioned casually in passing a few weeks ago that the two had been getting on well, and that she worked in legal aid. It made sense that she’d be attending this event.

‘It’s Kim,’ Gus replied a little embarrassed. He confirmed Shawn’s suspicion.

 Shawn faked indignation.

However, that fake indignation turned into real indignation when Gus failed to speak to her throughout the entirety of meal.

Instead Gus focused all his attention on his new love interest, leaving Shawn alone and forced to make pleasant conversation with the elderly couple to her right. Whilst this was not ideal at first and Shawn was a little sullen that her best friend was seemingly so uneducated about the bro code, the conversation flowed a lot easier when the elderly couple found out that Shawn was Henry’s daughter.

‘Oh the psychic detective,’ said the old lady.

‘Yeah, that’s me,’ replied Shawn as she shoved a forkful of appetizer into her mouth.

‘We could have used a few psychic detectives in our days,’ said the old man jokingly. ‘I know I could have used a ghost or two to help me solve my cases.’

Shawn laughed and took the final bite of her appetizer before it was cleared away a waiter whose timing was eerie. Shawn looked forlornly at the empty space where her plate had been mere moments ago. She seriously hoped that the serving sizes did not stay that small, the first course was gone in what felt like two bites.

Thinking back it literally had been two bites.

How could that truly constitute a course?

Was this how rich people lived?

Thankfully the event was meticulously organised and as just as Shawn’s finished appetizer plate was whisked away, her second course was set down before her. A couple after her own heart, the elderly pair beside Shawn prioritised eating above conversation and so Shawn was able to shovel down her food to her heart’s content. She tried to ignore the laughter and giggling that was going on to her left. Gus was on a roll it seemed, and Kim was certainly interested. Shawn would have gagged mockingly if there was anyone around to appreciate it. The rest of the people at the table were unfamiliar faces. They may have interpreted her gagging as choking on the food that she was hoovering down. Which was a very viable assumption.

Shawn’s only reprieve was spotting Juliet at a table far across the room. Juliet was sitting beside Lassiter and a few other detectives Shawn recognised from the SBPD.  She looked stunning as usual.  Shawn waved to Juliet who waved back with a wide smile. Lassiter who had looked up when Juliet waved looked firmly away again when he saw to whom the wave was directed. Instead he focused all his attention back to his plate.

 _Understandable_ , Shawn thought, trying very hard not to feel offended.

Lassiter’s attention was needed somewhere else.

Spaghetti could be very hard to eat.


	11. Chapter 11

With the meal over and the tables cleared, it was time for the awards ceremony.

As expected of an awards gala the ceremony was long and boring. It was filled with speeches and long ‘thank-you to these brave and dedicated warriors, the protectors of civilians, the Thin Blue Line’ ramblings that dragged on for an eternity, and were usually delivered by cops so high up in the career ladder that they hadn’t seen the inside of a police station in years.  

Shawn’s full stomach meant that she felt sleepy and the droning addresses on the stage before her were doing nothing but aiding her lethargy. She spent her time trying mostly ignoring the speeches and instead valiantly dedicated her effort towards not to fall asleep.

Gus kept her awake with a few well timed death glares, nips and standing on toes.

Well, of course, _now_ Gus paid attention to her.

Shawn, whilst mostly disinterested in the award giving portion of the evening, paid rapt attention when it was time for Lassiter to receive his award. She managed to focus the entirety of the way through the long droning speech explaining Lassiter’s exceptional dedication and service in solving her case swiftly and professionally. She carefully schooled her face into remaining impassive as the announcer talked his way through her case but thankfully the details of her attack were kept minimal. Instead it was an opportunity to emphasise Lassiter’s commitment to exceptional police work. And it was a glowing recommendation for the Santa Barbara Police Department as a whole. She could practically see the media and press reporters present salivating at the opportunity to tell a story about the SBPD saving one of their own.

Shawn even had to stand up when the spotlight landed on her when the announcer called out her name. It was her opportunity to publically show her thanks. Shawn resisted the temptation to cause a scene. She smiled dazzlingly, before sitting down once again, all very well behaved. And when the speech was over and Lassiter walked up to finally receive his award, Shawn clapped furiously.

She clapped until her hands stung.

‘Where’d all that enthusiasm come from?’ asked Gus dryly.

‘Well I was a cheerleader in high-school Gus,’ Shawn replied with a lazy smile. She wouldn’t give Gus the satisfaction of a truthful answer.

‘You were on the team for a month Shawn, and then you got kicked off the squad for distracting players during the game.’

‘Some people just can’t handle team spirit,’ Shawn whispered.

Gus snorted. ‘I don’t know if what you were doing in that field could have been considered team spirit. As I recall, the only thing it could have been considered was indecent.’

Shawn shrugged.

‘I’ve heard it both ways.’

Gus made a disgusted noise and went back to ignoring Shawn. Thankfully, with the most minimal of boredom-induced comas, the award ceremony came to a close. The ceremony attendees were invited to the other room where there would be music and an open bar. 

Shawn stood up and wrestled momentarily with her dress, smoothing it down, and adjusting where it lay on her hips and waist. When she looked up she found that Gus and his beau from Legal Aid had disappeared. There had been definite giggling involved.

This was prom all over again.

Dammit.

Except this time Gus was her ride home.

Double Dammit.

And he had her keys.

Triple Dammit.

With nothing else to do, Shawn did the only thing she could think of.

She went to the bar.

With a casual wave of her hand Shawn attracted the attention of the bartender. He wasn’t too busy yet, but an open bar at a cop party meant that the poor bartender was in for a one hell of a night. Shawn kept her order simple, a soda. When the bartender returned with a glass Shawn picked it up gratefully and made her way from the bar. She wasn’t overly interested in making new friends today, so she looked around for someone, anyone she knew.  There was only one person there she noticed.

Lassiter.

Quadruple Dammit.

Well, maybe not.

Lassiter was sitting on a bar stool at the far corner of the bar, his award sitting in front of him. He had untied his bow tie and opened a few of his top buttons. By the looks of things he’d already had a few drinks. He certainly wasn’t wasting any time.

_Well, a drunken Lassie is more tolerable than a normal Lassie,_ reflected Shawn.

Shawn walked over to Lassiter and sat in the empty seat beside him. Lassiter, focused entirely on his whiskey, failed to look up for a while. When he eventually did look up, and finally noticed who it was had sat beside him, his face darkened. It wasn’t the recognition Shawn had been hoping for.

Shawn thought for a moment that Lassiter might stand up and move, or revert back to ignoring her but he did neither.  Instead he looked at the soda before her.

Shawn looked at it too. It was odd going to a bar and not ordering their most elaborate cocktail. But she still hadn’t taken as much as an aspirin since she had been drugged. It wasn’t something she made a big deal out of.

Lassiter looked glumly back into his drink. He was tipsy, but not drunk. He wasn’t his usual pain in the ass self but he also wasn’t a sparkling social butterfly or amazing conversational companion.

‘What’s got you down Lassie?’ asked Shawn suddenly, bored with the silence.

In an effort not to look too concerned she had adopted a bad 1920s accent.

‘A hard-boiled bull like you all dolled up on such an important night? You should feel like the cat’s pyjamas but something’s eatin’ you. You wanna talk?’

Lassiter looked at her over his drink. If looks could kill, Shawn would have been buried six feet under.

‘Hey, if you can’t tell your woes at the bar, where can you tell them? I’m all ears Lassie.’

Lassiter looked like he’d rather go to a beat poetry night.

Then he said as much.

‘I’d rather go to a beat poetry night.’

Shawn sighed and dropped the accent. ‘I’ll tell you my troubles then, shall I?’

She paused a moment waiting for him to say something scathing, or at least nip the conversation in the bud, but he remained silent. So Shawn decided to continue.

‘I spent all day with Jules getting waxed and buffed and blow-dried and backcombed and contoured into perfection and yet the only people that have told me that I looked nice were my father and my childhood best-friend. Said best-friend who came as my plus one but then left me the second we got here so he can flirt and hook up with his new girlfriend. Well it’s no wonder why he agreed to go so easily. He knew she’d be there. I’ve been bamboozled Lassie.’

Lassiter didn’t really look like he was listening, but he hadn’t stood up and left either. Shawn decided to interpret it as a good sign and to keep going and vent her frustrations.

‘It’s like prom all over again,’ Shawn said. ‘All I need is for Brad Lang to show up, drunkenly grab my boobs and try to put his hand up my dress and it’ll be like being sixteen all over again.’

Lassiter snorted into his scotch.

So he had been listening.

Shawn adopted a serious expression.

‘Well Lassie, I heard he’s a cop now. So never say never, you know?’

Shawn took a sip of her soda.

‘And another thing,’ Shawn said when she lowered her glass. She was really getting into the flow of complaining now. ‘I have no ride home, no phone, no money and no keys, because this stupid dress I’m wearing doesn’t even allow me to have a bra, let alone pockets!’

Shawn didn’t miss Lassiter’s eyes glancing when he thought she wasn’t looking.

There was a moment of silence.

‘I’m surprised you’re talking to me, Lassie,’ Shawn said. ‘Well, I’m surprised you’re letting me talk to you.’

Lassiter looked confused, probably from the alcohol. He looked at her, or more accurately glared at her, but something had softened the usual hard expression. Shawn would have placed her bets on it being the fifth scotch of the night from the open bar, but it could have been something else.

Gas maybe?

Shawn scoffed. ‘Come on Lassie, don’t be coy. Even Buzz has noticed the way you’re avoiding me like the plague.’

The humour in Shawn’s voice concealed the true hurt which lay beneath. It really did get to Shawn. It was clear that Lassiter regretted kissing her that night but there was ways to avoid the awkward situation that followed which didn’t involve Shawn having to feel like crap every day.

An explanation would have been nice.

The silence that followed made it clear that Shawn wasn’t going to get one. Unwilling to push the point, Shawn carefully slipped off the barstool and left the bar, making her way into the room where the music was playing.

This wasn’t a fight that Shawn was going to win. It wasn’t a fight that Shawn had the energy to fight anymore.

She left her drink, Lassiter and his sour mood behind.


	12. Chapter 12

It was more lively and fun in the other room. There were a lot of people talking and laughing and dancing to the music played by the orchestra. The sound of an orchestra in the air gave the whole gala a new level of class. The orchestra playing were the _SBPD Chamber Orchestra_. An orchestra made up entirely of musical cops. Musical cops were an intriguing notion to Shawn and so the orchestra entertained her focus for a moment.

She wondered if she and Gus could join.

In her youth Shawn had played the bassoon and Gus had played clarinet. Although _played_ was such a strong word. It implied that the noises she produced from the bassoon constituted music. It had been more like she was fighting a losing battle with a piece of guttering that sounded like a duck.

Henry had compared Shawn to a young Yo Yo Ma. If Yo Yo Ma had decided to put down his cello and attempt the bassoon.

Looking back, Shawn wasn’t so sure that had been a compliment.

Shawn’s foray into the musical world was somewhat short-lived.

Insults aside, and orchestra forgotten, Shawn decided to cast a glance or two around the busy room in the hopes that she would spot a familiar face. Quickly her eyes fell to the movement of the dancefloor. There she saw Juliet dancing with a handsome detective.

Juliet looked beautiful. And Shawn was definitely not the only person at the gala who thought so. Shawn could see a number men plucking up the courage to ask her to dance. There was no way that Shawn could intercept or talk to Juliet any time soon.

Shawn decided to look around a little more, privately hoping that she might catch sight of the elusive Lesser-Spotted Friendship Betrayer, aka Gus. But after roving her eyes over the occupants of the room Shawn had no such luck.

‘Oh Shawn!’ Shawn heard a voice exclaim. It was Buzz and his lady love.

‘Hey guys,’ Shawn said casually.

Buzz and Francine were a really were a sweet couple, totally suited to each other. And without anyone to talk to for the near future so Shawn decided to start a conversation, preferably a long one to kill some time. She prompted them onto a topic she knew any lovey-dovey couple would be powerless to not babble about.

‘So, Buzz, you never did tell me all about your wedding!’

Thirty minutes later and the McNabs were still excitedly talking about the wedding. Shawn nodded appreciatively and made the appropriate noises, although she was not truly listening. She laughed at the correct spot in the flower arrangement mix up and she gasped at the customary ‘oh no, where have the rings gone’ story, but she allowed her mind to wander a little.  

Like had been happening unacceptably often Shawn found her mind wandering back to one person.

Lassiter.

And one event.

The Kiss.

Shawn was still a little upset about Lassiter’s lack of explanation as to why he had been avoiding her. But she wasn’t an idiot; it had something to do with their kiss.

Surely it hadn’t been that bad a kiss, regrettable or not. It certainly hadn’t been for Shawn. She’d been positively weak at the knees.

‘Shawn?’ a voice called, drawing Shawn from her musings. ‘Shawn  Spencer?’

It had been a man’s voice, so instinctively Shawn looked from Francine to Buzz. But it wasn’t Buzz who had just spoken. He was looking behind her, to the actual source of the noise. Shawn turned around to find the source of the unfamiliar man’s voice. She saw a man around her age walking towards her.

‘I can’t believe it’s really you! God, how time flies.’

Shawn’s face must have been devoid of recognition, so the man continued.

‘It’s Brad Lang!’

Brad Lang. Shawn’s old high-school fumble.

Oh no.

Despite the fact that logic told Shawn that she wouldn’t sink into the ground and disappear forever from embarrassment, no matter how awkward the situation was, that didn’t mean that Shawn wasn’t going to try.

She forced an awkward smile.

‘Hey Brad,’ Shawn said reluctantly.

‘Can I ask you for a dance?’ Brad Lang asked. His smarmy grin oozed something that definitely wasn’t charm.

‘Oh, no I don’t know,’ Shawn said, making her excuses. ‘I’m not much of a dancer and Buzz and Francine here were telling me about their wedding-‘

‘Nonsense, one dance for old time’s sake,’ Brad said with a wink.  He grabbed Shawn’s hand and pulled her out onto the dancefloor.

Shawn shot a ‘save me’ glance at Francine, who returned her gaze apologetically.  Shawn knew there was nothing she could do but dance with her old classmate. Shawn was relieved when the song played by the orchestra ended. It had been a slow dance, and that would have been a bridge too far for Shawn. The next song began. Thankfully it was a lot livelier than the previous song, no sappy heads on shoulders or swaying gently side to side in this song. Thank heaven for small mercies.

Small, small, _small_ mercies.

We’re talking tiny.

As Shawn and Brad danced they caught up on old times through the tried and tested method of awkward small talk.  Yes, she was still friends with Gus and yes, she was a psychic, working with the SBPD. And he was a cop in San Jose, small world. No, Shawn wasn’t married, and no neither was he.

But Shawn could tell from a glance at Brad’s ring finger that he used to be married. Multiple times.

At prom, Shawn recalled Brad hadn’t been able to hold his liquor. He had two bottles of beer he had stolen from his dad’s fridge and a hip flask filled with cheap gin which he managed to smuggle in without catching the attention of any chaperones. Drinking them in quick succession Brad had gone on a flirting spree. Groping Shawn and insisting she dance with him to the musical stylings of Sir Mix-a-lot, Brad had danced with her for around an hour until Shawn had managed to make her escape.  

Two decades later, the cheap gin and smuggled beer had been replaced with top shelf spirits and craft beer. The 90s prom anthems had been replaced with a marvellous chamber orchestra. The puffy dresses and too big tuxedos had been replaced with something more fashionable, more fitted and stylish. The school gymnasium had been replaced with an elegant ballroom. The spiked punchbowl was now an open bar. But there was one thing that hadn’t improved with age.

Brad.

To put it delicately, Brad Lang’s attempts at flirting and seduction hadn’t seemed to improve over the years at all and it was quickly becoming clear to Shawn that Brad was expecting some reprise of their prom… and then some. For Shawn that would be a kind of _Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II_ and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

But Brad was oh-so-very suggestive, and his tipsy attempts at charm just came off as sleazy. Just holding his hand and shoulder while dancing made Shawn feel slimy. And whilst Brad was relaxed, holding Shawn tightly, swaying slightly out of time with the music, guiding Shawn inexpertly around the ballroom, Shawn felt a little like the Tin Man in a ball gown. Her movements were stiff and mechanical and Shawn could feel every muscle strain tenser and tenser with every small movement of Brad’s hand on her back, moving slowly but determinedly, downwards.

By the time the song ended Brad’s hands were far lower down her back than was appropriate, and his lingering and near-constant ogling made Shawn wish that her dress were higher cut, or that she had been able to wear a bra.

Scratch that, a giant polo neck or an anorak. Maybe both.

Not that something like that would have detracted Brad from his non-too-subtle leering.

‘You know we’ve both changed a lot I think,’ Brad said with a knowing glance. ‘You’ve gotten way hotter since school. And you’re so much more _developed._ ’

Shawn made an audible gagging sound, which she quickly covered up with a cough.

‘Man, I seem to have a frog in my throat. I’m just going to get a glass of water,’ Shawn said as she managed to extract herself from Brad’s inappropriate ballroom technique and made her hasty exit.

This night was just getting better by the minute.

Curse her and her big mouth. 


	13. Chapter 13

Pushing through the crowd, fast enough to get away from Brad Lang and his wandering hands, but carefully enough that she didn’t ruin her dress, Shawn made her way off the dancefloor, out of the ballroom and back towards the bar.

The crowd of people had been growing steadily thicker at the bar, which was to be expected at a party for cops. It was an open bar and with alcohol plentifully flowing, people were starting lose their reservation enough to laugh rambunctiously and to dance. The entranceway between the bar and the ballroom was busy. Getting sucked into the throng of people was akin to getting drawn into quicksand. A slow and seemingly inescapable process. Struggling only made it worse. Shawn made strategic use of her bony elbows and high heels to get through the crowd more speedily but it was like trying to run through peanut butter. Not that Shawn had tried. Correction, not that Shawn had done so with much success.

As Shawn finally escaped the crowd she glanced quickly behind her to check if she was out of trouble. Blast it, Shawn could see Brad Lang slowly making his way through the crowd. His progress was a lot slower than Shawn’s, he was being far more polite, and he was often stopping to chat to familiar faces, but it was clear he was making his way over to the bar too, most likely to join her.

No thanks.

Shawn walked a little more briskly to the bar. To where Lassiter was still sitting, nursing another drink. Evidently whilst all the excitement was happening to Shawn in the ballroom, Lassiter had remained seated, taking the open bar as a challenge.

‘Lassie!’ Shawn said attracting Lassiter’s attention as she finally arrived at the bar. He looked at her and then looked back into his drink.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t moved,’ Shawn said as she retook her seat beside him. She was amazed it was still empty as the bar was so busy. But Lassiter had mastered a sour expression so strong that no one would bother him.

Shawn didn’t care. Bothering Lassiter was pretty much Shawn’s second job.

Lassiter put down his drink and finally looked at Shawn.

‘What do you want, Spencer?’ Lassiter asked. He didn’t sound annoyed, but there was something tired in his tone. A poignancy.

Shawn wasn’t the only person at this event who wasn’t enjoying themselves.

‘I don’t want anything Lassie,’ Shawn said innocently. ‘I just want to sit here and talk.’

Lassiter looked at Shawn sceptically.

‘Okay, that’s not it,’ Shawn admitted. ‘But you know how I joked earlier about Brad Lang, an old high school fling? I said how he was a cop now, yeah? Well it seems that was… a premonition. And the spirits were forewarning me about this evening. Forewarning me, or playing a giant cosmic joke on me, I haven’t quite decided yet. Turns out he’s here with some other cops for San Jose to support a detective buddy who got an award. Lang saw me, insisted we catch up on old times and now he wants to have a repeat of prom.’

Lassiter looked a little lost at Shawn’s explanation.

‘Lang is getting handsy.’

Lassiter nodded. Now he understood.

‘You want me to arrest the guy?’ Lassiter asked, reaching for his cuffs.

Of course Lassiter would bring his gun, handcuff and detective badge to a formal event.

‘No!’ Shawn said with a laugh. ‘I just need you to sit close to me and talk. Hopefully it’ll scare him off. Gus usually does it but since he’s decided to abandon me you’ll do in a pinch.’

‘Fine,’ said Lassiter. He didn’t much like the sound of being Gus’ replacement. ‘But if you’re sitting here you need a drink.’

Lassiter lifted his hand and signalled the bartender, signalling for two drinks this time.

The bartender was quick despite the massive crowd of rowdy people. Obviously they were very familiar with Lassiter’s drink order by now. Moments later the bartender returned with two tulip shaped glasses filled with amber liquid Shawn guessed was either whiskey or the world’s fanciest apple juice.

‘I’m fine thanks,’ Shawn said when Lassiter offered her the second glass.

‘Still can’t drink alcohol?’ Lassiter asked.

It was an astute observation from the non-too sober head detective.

He had noticed Shawn’s non-alcoholic drink from earlier, a soda, just ask Shawn had suspected. The glass of whiskey he had ordered for Shawn was to confirm his theory.

Not too shabby police work.

But Lassiter was right. Shawn had lost all taste for alcohol since she had been drugged and attacked. These days Shawn was strictly a virgin cocktail or carbonated beverage kind of girl.

She had to maintain some virtues she supposed.

‘I won’t drink anything that doesn’t have a cocktail umbrella in it,’ Shawn said instead.

This explanation was more fun than the truth.

She flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

Lassiter frowned and then leant over the bar, picking up a cocktail umbrella from the little box they were contained in, next to the ice box and slices of lemon and lime. He opened the tiny umbrella up and placed it in her glass. He raised an eyebrow as if daring Shawn to pass comment.

Shawn laughed, how very Lassiter of him.

The smile reached her eyes that time.

Shawn took a second to look behind Lassiter. Conveniently there was a large mirror placed right behind him. Under the guise of fixing a stray hair, Shawn managed to see Brad Lang finally make his way out of the crowd and towards the bar.

‘Quick Lassie, he’s coming,’ Shawn said urgently. ‘Look like we’re close.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know man, just whisper in my ear or something.’

Drunken Lassiter was much more of a pushover than regular Lassiter, thank god. He leaned over close to Shawn and murmured into her ear. He even placed a hand possessively on her waist as an added sign of ‘keep away’.

A little blown away by the hand on her waist Shawn almost forgot to listen to what Lassiter was saying. She tried to focus. But the contact was overwhelming. The simple touch of his hand on her waist made Shawn’s mind turn temporarily into Jello.

Finally she concentrated on his words.

‘Which one is he?’ Lassiter was asking. ‘This _Brad Lang.’_

Lassiter was the only man Shawn knew who could say a name and make it sound like some kind of nasty and infectious disease. Possibly sexually transmitted.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

‘He’s the guy in the grey tux and open shirt with no tie.’

‘Spotted him, one o’clock,’ Lassiter said. He was still intoxicatingly close to Shawn, murmuring in her ear just like she had asked. Shawn was enjoying it more than was strictly necessary.  ‘I don’t know what you were thinking hooking up with him in high school, Spencer. He looks like an idiot.’

Shawn giggled. Swear to god, giggled, as if what Lassiter had said was very funny. Sure she was laying it on a little thick, but she hoped it would be enough to get Brad to leave her alone.

She leaned forwards to whisper something back, allowing herself to lean forwards so that she and Lassiter’s legs were gently touching.

‘He was the only guy in my grade with his own car. Everyone else had to borrow their parent’s car. It was a highly desirable trait. ’

‘I have a car,’ Lassiter mumbled.

That time Shawn really did giggle.

Lassiter frowned, perhaps to cover the reddening of his cheeks and finished his drink in one. Noting that Shawn hadn’t even taken a sip of hers, he finished hers too.

‘He’s still coming over’, Lassiter observed sourly.

With Shawn facing Lassiter, she was relying on the mirror and Lassiter’s commentary to track Lang’s movement.

 ‘It’s hard to get through the crowd,’ Lassiter commented before wobbling slightly on his barstool. 

‘Right Lassie, you’ve had enough I think,’ Shawn said.

‘I’m fine,’ Lassiter insisted, although his glassy eyes were telling different tale.

Shawn raised an eyebrow and Lassiter ignored it. So she stood up and looked at him expectantly. It was a tribute to how drunken Lassiter really was that he did stand up, echoing her movement. For the first time Shawn was given the chance to fully take in the majesty that was Lassiter in a tuxedo. It was very nice. Shawn could have stared longer but the impending presence of a high-school fumble was a strong motivator, so she gestured for him to walk with her.

‘We’re going to take a walk a minute,’ Shawn said. ‘Let’s get some air.’

Lassiter held out his arm for Shawn.

Was he just being polite or had he noticed her hobbling from her damned high heels?

Shawn didn’t think that either option was overly likely. Lassiter was probably just an unsteady drunk.

Whatever the reason for the gesture, Shawn placed her arm, grabbed his award from where it lay neglected on the bar and allowed the pair to make their escape.


	14. Chapter 14

Shawn and Lassiter left the bar to get some air.

It was chilly outside, probably only in the low thirties. Shawn shivered. Her dress was not suited for this kind of weather. Unthinkingly Lassiter handed her his jacket, which she gratefully put on.

It smelled faintly of Lassiter, and strongly of Whiskey.

Arm in arm, Shawn and Lassiter walked in a comfortable silence. After a moment of silent strolling Shawn noticed Lassiter swaying a little in his steps.

That was it.

Shawn was taking Lassiter home, or at least to hers until he sobered up a little.

‘Hey man, I’m taking you home,’ Shawn told Lassiter.

‘I’m fine Spencer,’ Lassiter said.

‘Tell that to me when you can walk in a straight line.’

‘I’m walking right now, aren’t I?’

‘Like you’ve been at sea and you’re trying to regain your land-legs.’

Lassiter grunted in protest.

‘Anyway, I have your jacket. Your keys are in the pocket. You don’t have a choice, man. You’re coming with me.’

Lassiter grumbled as Shawn guided him to the parking lot. Strangely unwilling to move her arm from where it sat comfortably, tucked in Lassiter’s arm, Shawn hooked the trophy she held in her other hand under her chin as she fished out the keys from Lassiter’s jacket.

Holding out the keys and clicking the ‘open’ button Shawn looked around the parking lot for the flashing light to show her where Lassiter’s car was. Thankfully it wasn’t too far away, just beside the nearest street lamp.

Once at the car, Shawn opened the door to the backseat. She gestured to Lassiter to get in. Shawn figured that Lassiter would be less annoying behind her in the backseat rather than beside her in the passenger seat. Although, she had a feeling he would be a backseat driver regardless of where he was sitting.

After a millisecond of unsteadiness Shawn gently assisted him into the car. Once again Lassiter offered no protest. Instead, he climbed into the car slowly, and lay down, covering his eyes from the bright light of the street lamp above them with his arm.

Shawn removed the jacket he had lent her and placed it over him like a blanket.

Shawn opened the door to the driver’s seat and climbed in, taking care not to crumple her dress or catch a heel on the hem. She set Lassiter’s award beside her, placing it carefully in the passenger seat. Usually Lassiter loved awards and garnering praise, but for some reason he wasn’t pleased with this one. Shawn resolved that she would have to appreciate it on his behalf.

Shawn kicked off her heels and began to drive home. She had originally planned on driving to Lassiter’s, but that would have left her without a ride home. Lassiter was in no position to sit upright on a chair let alone drive her home, and her stupid-but-pretty dress didn’t allow for her to have any money on her person so she couldn’t get a bus or a cab. Driving to Lassiter’s would be a pain in the ass.

No, Shawn would drive to her apartment and Lassiter could call a cab to get home and pick up his car in the morning.

That’s what he got for having comfortable and practical formal wear.

Comfortable, practical, _attractive_ formalwear, which Shawn felt was unfair, one couldn’t have all three. That was being selfish.

With both parties in the car consumed in individual thought there was silence in the car. But Shawn didn’t mind. It allowed her to concentrate on driving, as well as to take a little time to appreciate how Lassiter had looked in his tuxedo through occasional surreptitious glances in the rear-view mirror.

Not that she would admit that to another living soul.

The silent journey also allowed Lassiter the opportunity to focus intently on stopping the world from spinning. Shawn was surprised that he didn’t need to be sick. He was really _really_ drunk.

The man had some seriously Irish drinking levels. 

Fifteen minutes into the peacefully quiet journey and Lassiter mumbled quietly. Shawn didn’t catch it over the sound of the engine at first.

‘Can you repeat that?’ Shawn asked, ‘I didn’t hear you.’

There was a second of poised silence.

‘I said I’m sorry,’ Lassiter said.

‘Sorry about what?’ Shawn asked, genuinely confused. ‘If it’s because you’re drunk there’s no need to apologise, I’ve helped Gus in worse states than this. Hell, before I stopped drinking, I was usually in worse states than you right now. Besides it’s your special evening, you’re allowed to celebrate!’

‘No… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for that night. I didn’t mean to kiss you, but it just happened.’

Shawn froze. They were doing this now then. Talking about it. The Kiss.

Shawn had spent weeks being annoyed that Lassiter didn’t want to talk about it, or ever mention the event ever again. She had hung around his desk for days and visited the station unnecessarily for weeks, under the flimsiest of pretences, just hoping that she could catch him off guard enough to discuss what went down. She had dropped hints in his general direction when he ignored her. She had gone out of her way to be in his presence when he started to avoid her. Shawn was determined that at some point Lassiter would acknowledge that something had happened. That she could make him admit that they had kissed. But now that he had, Shawn was seized by a sudden awkward embarrassment.

She wished he hadn’t brought it up.

At least she could concentrate on driving and not have to look at Lassiter to have this conversation.

Shawn cleared her throat awkwardly.

‘Why would you need to apologise for that? I kissed you first anyway.’

It was clear that it was something that had been angering Lassiter.

‘It’s my fault,’ he said. ‘You were in a vulnerable place and were crying out for help and I took advantage of that.’

Shawn laughed. A reaction Lassiter didn’t want.

‘You can’t take anything seriously Spencer,’ Lassiter said angrily.

‘No, I’m laughing at how absurd this all is. I wasn’t _in a bad place_. Dude, I was ecstatic. The man who had beat me up and left me in an alley, the man who had drugged me, the man who had broken into my apartment, and tried to do it again, had just been arrested. I was over the moon Lassie! I can’t remember the last time I was so happy.’

Shawn paused for a second in mock thought.

‘Maybe when _Robo-Cop_ came out?’

Lassiter was silent for a while, his drunken brain trying to process the news. Shawn sneaked a glance at him through the rear view mirror. It was hard to judge his emotion with this hand covering his face. She felt it best to let him slowly figure things out in his currently 70%-proof brain.

He was so alcohol saturated that Shawn worried a spark of enlightenment might cause him to explode.

No explosion though, just an extended period of silence.

‘So,’ Lassiter said hesitantly, ‘You weren’t forced into kissing me?’

‘No!’ Shawn said a little more passionately than she had intended.

She was glad that Lassiter couldn’t see the flash of crimson that appeared on her cheeks, more natural than any amount of carefully applied make-up could achieve.

Well, she was already embarrassed enough, no shame in pushing it a little farther.

‘I kissed you because I wanted to.’

‘You _wanted to_?’ Lassiter echoed, as if the words were foreign in his mouth.

‘Yup.’

Another moment of silence, Shawn could pretty much hear the cogs whirring in Lassiter’s brain as he thought.

‘Does that mean the dinner we ate before was a date?’

Shawn hadn’t thought about that.

‘I suppose it was,’ she admitted.

It hadn’t been an intentional date though. It just so happened that everyone else invited to Shawn’s for the meal cancelled or couldn’t make it.

It had been fun nevertheless.

Not that Shawn would ever admit it, but in her boredom induced day-dreams she often imagined she and Lassiter on other dates. Perhaps the beach, a nice restaurant or a movie, maybe even a firing range, just for the hell of it.

She could impress Lassiter with her rapid fire wit _and_ her eagle eye accuracy with a gun.

Shawn had allowed her mind to drift as she awaited Lassiter to reply, but he didn’t.

But the mystery behind his silence soon became apparent when she heard soft breathing from the back seat.

He had fallen asleep.

Shawn wondered if Lassiter would even remember this tomorrow morning. It seemed he had been drinking to forget the evening earlier on and Lassiter was nothing if not dedicated to a cause.

But at least he was being quiet.


	15. Chapter 15

Shawn made the rest of the journey home content to be alone with her thoughts. It was easy to lose track of time when concentrating on the road. The streetlights and traffic lights became hypnotic after a while, and her slow and uncharacteristically careful driving made the drive longer than it needed to be. But Shawn knew how pissed Lassiter would be in the morning when he realised he had let Shawn drive his car. She saw no reason to rile him up further by driving his car badly.

Once she made it back to her apartment Shawn drove into the resident’s parking lot, finding a space and turning off the engine. She took a second to revel in the silence that had fallen in the car once the noise of the engine had ended then she gave a deep sigh. Time to get to work.

Once out of the driver’s seat and into the cool night air Shawn’s principal task was to get the drunken Head Detective of the SPBD out of the backseat of his own car and into her apartment to sober up a little. She opened the door, gently shaking Lassiter awake. He mumbled and tried to roll over, a move which was ineffective whilst in the back seat of a car. Shawn shook him gently again. Grumbling for a little while longer Lassiter eventually opened his eyes blearily. He saw Shawn waiting patiently at the door. He groaned a little louder.

‘Come on Mr Grumbly-Bones, you can lie down on my couch,’ Shawn coaxed.  ‘There’ll be more room for you stretch out and it’ll be more comfortable than the backseat of the car.’

Lassiter it seemed acquiesced to Shawn’s enticements. He slowly sat up and took a moment to find whatever remnant remained of his equilibrium before climbing out of the backseat slowly, holding onto the car’s frame for support.

The jacket which Shawn had placed over Lassiter was in his hands. Lassiter offered it to Shawn again and she gladly took it. It was getting chillier and chillier and Shawn wasn’t made for the cold. She was strictly a beaches, volleyball and sunglasses kinda gal.

Arm in arm, the pair walked leisurely from Lassiter’s car to Shawn’s apartment. Shawn leant on Lassiter for support because her high heels were killing her. Lassiter leant on Shawn because he had attempted to drink the entirety of the open bar. Both looked to an outside observer as though they were attempting to regain their land legs after a month at sea.

‘You know,’ Shawn began conversationally, ‘the only person in this situation who deserves sympathy is me, because beauty is pain.’

‘Bullcrap, Spencer,’ Lassiter replied grumpily. ‘I deserve as much sympathy as you. It was your choice to wear those heels. You don’t need to wear heels to make you beautiful.’

‘I know, Lassie,’ Shawn said with a laugh.

But inside Shawn was doing cartwheels from the casual compliment that Lassiter hadn’t even noticed he had given her.

Finally the pair completed the arduous journey from the parking lot, through the lobby, up in the elevator and down the hall, to finally arrive at the door of Shawn’s apartment. Shawn looked at the door blankly for a second before remembering that Gus still had her keys. Dammit. She sighed and reached up to above the door frame to get the spare key she kept above her door, hidden in a gap in the doorframe, and let herself and Lassiter in.

‘It’s not safe to keep a spare key in somewhere so obvious, Spencer,’ Lassiter remarked casually, without his usual acerbic undertone. He held onto the door frame for a moment longer than was usual as he regained his balance.

‘It’s hidden, Lassie.’ Shawn justified. Thanks to the somewhat shoddy workmanship of whoever did building repairs, Shawn had a gap between wall and doorframe that made a perfect hiding spot for a spare key.

‘It’s the first place I’d check if I were a robber,’ Lassiter said.

‘Good job you’re not a robber then. You’re just a lush.’

‘Lush,’ Lassiter repeated slowly, as if he had never heard the word before. ‘That’s a new one.’

Shawn snorted. 

When Lassiter finally decided that the walls were doing enough to hold the doorframe up without his support, Lassiter straightened up, walked through the door and made a beeline to the cupboard where he knew Shawn kept the Gus-Kit.

Opening the cupboard and removing the Gus Kit Lassiter looked bemused. The Gus Kit remained where he has seen it last, but there was one new addition. There was now a large padlock on it. He held the box up to Shawn and laughed.

He really was drunk.

‘I don’t have the key, man. Gus said I’ve misused the Gus-Kit one too many times, and I don’t deserve Gus-Kit privileges anymore,’ Shawn explained.

Lassiter found this amusing, and in his drunken state didn’t bother to conceal the humour in his eyes.  He put the box back into the cupboard with the carefulness that only the very drunk practice.

Electing to sleep without the soft pillows and blankets which resided within the Gus Kit, Lassiter went to the couch and lay down.

‘It’s cold in here,’ Lassiter grumbled after a moment of trying to get comfortable.

‘Yeah, that’s my fault. I forgot to turn on some heat before I left. And it’s cold tonight. And this is an old building,’ Shawn said. The litany of excuses fell easily off her tongue.

‘And also I haven’t paid the heating bills for the past three months and so it’s been cut off,’ she added lightly. ‘That’s a major dampener. You know, it’s probably the major cause for this situation.’

‘You’re a mess Spencer,’ Lassiter said with a gentle chuckle. His eyes were closed so he didn’t see Shawn’s shocked expression when he laughed.  Instead, Lassiter adjusted his position on the couch to get a little more comfortable and mumbled appreciatively when he seemed to find a spot that was just right. Shawn wondered if he was going to fall asleep despite his protests it was cold.

Had Lassiter been sober, he probably would have demanded a blanket, or more likely, he would have asked for his jacket back. But he hadn’t asked. And so, Shawn was still wearing it. In fact, she was taking a private moment of glee in how the oversized tuxedo was so big it covered her hands and kept her warm and protected. It was like wearing a letterman jacket in high school.

If the letterman jacket was a fancy black-tie rental, that was.

Curiosity piqued Shawn checked the label on the inner jacket pocket, there was no label other than the label of the tailors. So, it wasn’t a rental. It seemed Lassiter owned his own tuxedo.

Lassiter was a man of many surprises.

It seemed every time Shawn managed to surprise him, he’d surprise her right back.

Shawn looked over at the drunken, award winning, tuxedo owning man in question. His long legs were stretched up over the edge of the couch. At only four or five inches shorter than Lassiter, Shawn had often found herself falling asleep watching a movie on TV in a similar position. It was not as comfortable as it looked.

Shawn sighed. 

‘I’m locking up for the evening,’ she said loudly. ‘You should go to my room and take a pillow and a blanket for the couch.’

There was no response from the figure on the couch.

‘Lassie,’ Shawn said a little louder.

There was a snort of response from the couch, more like a snore than a noise of acknowledgement. He really must have fallen asleep.

‘Before you fall asleep again get a blanket and pillow from my room and take it back to the couch so you’re not too cold,’ Shawn said with the loud insistence of a mother waking her child.

Lassiter grumbled but slowly sat up and made his way in the vague direction of Shawn’s room. His eyes still half closed and his gait not unlike a zombie’s, slow, staggering and unsteady.

There were three rooms in Shawn’s apartment, the bedroom, the bathroom and the living area. Lassiter had been in her apartment before and even in his drunken state couldn’t possibly get so lost that he couldn’t find her room to get a blanket and pillow, so Shawn left him to it as she locked the door and pulled the curtains she had forgotten to close before left that evening.

After closing the blinds, and double and triple checking the door was locked, a quirk Shawn had picked up of late, Shawn made her way back to her bedroom to help Lassiter with the blankets. She was worried he’d trip or do something stupid. But not before she had made a mental note to find somewhere better to hide her spare key and to buy a pair of bolt cutters to get into the Gus Kit in case she had any more unexpected house guests in the future.

Entering the bedroom Shawn saw immediately her suspicion had been correct and that Lassiter had done something stupid.

Evidently taking a pillow and blanket from Shawn’s bedroom to the couch was just too much effort for Lassiter. Obviously stripping down to his boxers and falling asleep in her bed was a much better idea.

_Asshole move, Lassie_ Shawn thought.

It was cold as hell in the living room and there was no way Shawn was staying in there just because some drunken cop decided to channel his inner Goldilocks and take her bed. Shawn kicked off her heels and stripped from her dress. Amazingly unzipping her dress proved much easier than zipping it up in the first place, Shawn only needed the most minimal of contortionism to unzip the dress. It didn’t look very elegant or dignified and involved a lot of wiggling but the only other person present was Lassiter. And he was fast asleep anyway, so Shawn could wiggle as much as was needed to get free.

Hanging up her dress quickly, Shawn put on an old t-shirt she had lying around, picking up some shorts from her laundry pile and throwing them on too for a little more decency.

Shawn went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take off her make up. Once she had done both she looked at her hair and pulled a face. Her hair had stayed perfect all night long, but that was because it was around 94% hairspray, 67% teasing, 73% bobby pins and 23% being bad at percentages. The thought of having to brush her hair right now was just a little too much to bear. Instead Shawn removed all the bobby pins she could find, approximately eight billion of them, threw her hair into a ponytail and elected to deal with it in the morning.

Anyway, she had more pressing matters at hand.

Exhibit A. The currently dead-asleep Head Detective sprawled across her bed.

Shawn re-entered her bedroom and sighed. None too gently she pushed and prodded Lassiter’s long limbs until he was firmly on one side of the bed. She then proceeded to pull the bedcovers off Lassiter who had wrapped them all snugly around himself.

‘Well make yourself at home why don’t ya?’ she grumbled.

Shawn then climbed into her bed and comfortably under her bed covers and settled into a comfortable position. She lay there for a moment, relaxed and toasty warm. But with a wave of guilt she spared a glance to the semi-naked detective sleeping next to her, now sans blankets, exposed to the elements both literally and figuratively.  Shawn felt a pang of pity. She adjusted her covers a little more so that they covered Lassiter too.

Just so he didn’t get cold.


	16. Chapter 16

In the morning Shawn woke up enveloped in a cosy heat. Something large was pressed against her back providing a warm and comforting presence.

Oh.

It seemed Lassiter was a cuddler.

The more you know.

Shawn, in her blissful doziness, had no protests at waking up an unsuspecting little spoon, especially when said big spoon was so comfortable. Lassiter had one hand as a pillow for his head, the other was on the bare skin of Shawn’s stomach, holding her to him. Her old oversized t-shirt must have slipped up during the night leaving Lassiter’s hand lying gentle on naked skin. Well, this she could definitely live with for a little longer. She wiggled back a little and softly drifted off to sleep again, smiling a little as his hand tightened around her.

As Shawn began to doze she absently thought about what Lassiter, were he awake, would make of the current situation. She imagined much awkward small talk and then general avoidance at the station. Well she wasn’t going to let that happen.

Shawn drifted back to sleep easily.

The room was silent but for the quiet rhythm of sleeping breaths.

Shawn didn’t expect to be woken up by the sound of screaming. She didn’t think Lassiter the type to engage in such activities, but judging by the arm on her waist which had tightened protectively at the noise, it wasn’t him.

Shawn sat up quickly, heart racing at the noise, Lassiter echoed her movements. Both were immediately awake. Fully awake. Acutely aware. Focused on the source of the scream.

It was Gus.

In his hands, his trembling hands, Gus held Shawn’s apartment keys. The keys she had given to him the night previously. They very keys he had innocently decided to return to Shawn that morning before he left for work.  

Gus’ eyes were wide and the disturbed expression conveyed his horror perfectly. He was frozen in place, standing at the doorway.             The view of Shawn and Lassiter in bed seemed to have scarred Gus for life.

Oh Shawn could have fun with this.

Shawn wanted to get a little revenge for last night. Gus left her alone and abandoned her. He was too busy flirting with his lady love to keep Shawn entertained. And Shawn decided that Gus’ horror would be a suitable equivalent exchange for his betrayal the night before.

Lassiter, evidentially embarrassed about the situation he had found himself in, moved to stand up, but Shawn placed a hand to his chest, holding him in place gently.

‘Hey Gus, a little privacy goes a long way man,’ Shawn said with a lazy smile. ‘Does a sock on the door mean nothing these days?’

Gus looked as if he was going to faint. Or vomit. Or both.

He tore his eyes from the scene before him and looked at the door desperately.

‘There’s no sock here Shawn,’ Gus said somewhat despairingly. ‘There’s no sock!’

Shawn smiled languidly, opening her mouth to reply, but before she could talk Gus held up his hand to cut her off.

‘I’m leaving. I’m getting out of here. That’s messed up Shawn.’

Gus dropped Shawn’s keys on the floor and rushed out of her apartment.

At the sound of the front door closing Lassiter looked to Shawn. He looked at her hand, still placed comfortably on his chest.

He looked doubtful.

‘We… didn’t, did we?’ he asked awkwardly.

Shawn shakes her head.

‘Nah, you just passed out on my bed before you could make your way back to the couch,’ Shawn said. ‘This was just for revenge at Gus for ditching me last night.’

Lassiter nodded slowly.

Shawn looked at her alarm clock on her bedside table. She was surprised at the early hour. It wasn’t even 6am.

‘You know, we still have a couple of hours before we’d need to be down at the station. And I for one am I’m going back to sleep,’ Shawn said before snuggling down into her bed.

Lassiter remained where he was shoulders stiff and unmoving.

Shawn could tell that Lassiter was unsure whether their rude awakening had been his queue to leave.

‘Come on dude, you’re pulling the blanket down when you’re sitting up and I’m cold,’ Shawn said, expertly diffusing the tension. ‘Get back down here. You’re an amazing cuddler by the way, Lassie. Really. Kudos to you. Ten out of ten for snuggling.’

 Lassiter looked at her and frowned half-heartedly, before lying back down. Shawn smiled.

Victory.

Lassiter grumbled at Shawn crawling under his arms into the comfortable position they had been in before the interruption, but he didn’t stop her.

‘The only reason I’m still here Spencer is because my hangover is so bad if I stand up I may seriously die,’ Lassiter grouched as he closed his eyes and pretended he wasn’t enjoying the situation he had found himself in. ‘I think I’ve gone blind.’

Shawn didn’t mind Lassiter’s grumbling. She was just content to listen to his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

Unmoving from her position Shawn spoke to Lassiter, just before she drifted off to sleep once again.

‘Do you remember what we talked about last night?’

Lassiter was silent.

‘I mean about you regretting kissing me?’ Shawn pressed.

Lassiter said nothing once again, but his palm resting on Shawn’s side was warm. He was embarrassed. Shawn bet if she looked up Lassiter would be reddening.

‘Now you know I wanted you to kiss me, do you regret it anymore?’ Shawn continued relentless. She was determined for an answer.

Lassiter was silent for a moment before growling, ‘Shut up Spencer so I can get some sleep.’

Shawn smiled at the awkwardness and embarrassment in his voice.

‘I’m taking that as a yes, Lassie.’

‘Shut up, Spencer,’ Lassiter said once again.

Shawn shifted from where she lay curled in Lassiter’s chest and looked at him. Lassiter opened his eyes slowly and mourned that he detected a mischievous sparkle present in Shawn’s returned gaze.

‘This is going to be the start of something beautiful Lassie.’

‘Shut the hell up Spencer and go back to sleep.’

‘Our couple name will be Shassie. Like Brangelina.’

‘I’m not kidding. Shut up.’

Shawn lay down once again, snuggling in closely to Lassiter, pleased that despite all his grousing and complaints, his arms hold her tightly.

‘Our children will have hazel eyes and salt and pepper hair.’ Shawn added. Lassiter didn’t need to see her face to know that she was smirking.

‘I’m warning you Spencer. I will shoot you.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

Shawn twisted her position in Lassiter’s arms and looked up at his face good-naturedly.

Knowing that Shawn was probably just going to continue tormenting him for the imminent future Lassiter finally decided to shut Shawn up once and for all.

Pressing his lips onto her own and kissing her into silence.

Finally Shawn was quiet and Lassiter can get some sleep, but not before he appreciated the faint dusting of pink on Shawn’s cheeks, and her wide eyes.

Her wicked smile as she formulated a million plans for revenge.

Lassiter allowed his head to fall back down onto the pillow.

Oh god, this really was the start of something interesting.


End file.
